


Hating you (loving you)

by bearcubhoney



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 3RACHA, Alternate Universe - High School, But I promise I will warn you before, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, I changed the rating because things have gotten more intense than I was expecting, I just didn't feel like anyone based of real people would fit, M/M, Mental Health Issues, No Smut, OT8, Original Character(s), Rated for language and violence, Swearing, They kinda play a large roll, Unrequited Love, heavily inspired by higayimdad's sweet nonsense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:54:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 130,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23184364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bearcubhoney/pseuds/bearcubhoney
Summary: Minho knew people feared him, and he understood why. He didn’t make friends, he didn’t talk, he showed up to school all cut up from fights. People stared as he passed, then looked the other way when he met their gaze. People made up rumours about his family, his past, him. A lot of people assumed he lost his fights, but if they looked closer, they would realise that the cuts on his knuckles were a lot deeper than the ones on his face. If they looked even closer, they would see the regret and sadness under the blood.Jisung only knew heartbreak. He only knew longing gazes and lonely nights. He only knew the secret type of love, one sided and painful. He was the heartbroken and the heart breaker. He had held his heart in his hands as it fell apart and smiled sadly as he caused others to do the same. Some said he loved to easy others said he couldn’t love. It didn’t matter though, because as far as he was concerned, he didn’t deserve to be loved at all.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 352
Kudos: 633





	1. Chapter 1 (We get it you hate Han)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sweet Nonsense](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21413368) by [higayimdad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/higayimdad/pseuds/higayimdad). 



“Would you stop?” Changbin threw half a fry across the table hitting Minho in the cheek.

“What” he snapped throwing the fry back. 

“You’re glaring at Jisung again.” Chan took the bag of fries away from Changbin to prevent him from launching the entire thing back at Minho. “They’re getting uncomfortable.” 

“I know, that’s kinda the point.” He said, glaring at Chan who was now eating Changbin’s fries. Changbin snatched them back and Chan laughed, his mouth full of the chips. Minho looked away in disgust. Chan just laughed again. 

Minho didn’t mean to look back at Jisung’s table, but he did, and the rest of the group followed his gaze. Han had his face buried in his arms on the surface of the table. All his friends were looking back at them. Chan waved and one of the boys, the one with freckles, waved back with a slightly confused look on his face. Jisung was making a point to ignore them all and instead kept his face pressed into his arms, blocking out his surroundings. Minho sighed loudly. Changbin threw another fry at him. 

“Honestly Binnie grow up,” Chan said a little harsher than the usual playful scolding. “Minho stop staring at the children you’re making them uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, Minho Hyung stop staring!” Changbin mocked hands on hips. “We get it you hate Han.” 

When Minho threw the fourth fry at Changbin, Chan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. 

Minho looked over at the other table once again. The boys had gone back to their own conversation, but Han was looking directly at him. They only made eye contact for half a second. Han looked frozen like a deer in headlights and Minho was well aware that his eyes were narrowed with hate. Han tore his gaze away terrified to look back at the table. Minho almost smiled, he felt like he had won a non-existent competition, until the younger boy shook his head slightly, looked back up with a casual smile and flipped him the middle finger. 

“Fuck you” Han mouthed, then laughed at the scowl that spread across Minho’s face. 

Minho hated Han Jisung, and everyone knew it.

Minho hated a lot of people but there was something extra dislikeable about Han, that Minho had long decided not to pinpoint. Of course, people were curious, and rumours spiralled, but they had always followed Minho, so he was too unsurprised to be bothered by them. 

No one, even his close friends had ever actually asked why he hated Han, and that’s only because they already knew even if Minho himself wasn’t entirely sure. 

People didn’t like Minho and he didn’t blame him. There was something about the way his eyes narrowed, and posture tightened as if ready to fight that deterred people from approaching him. It was his cold laugh and calculated movements that scared people without them realising. 

So, no one had ever asked but he had heard enough whispers to know they were wondering. 

Minho told himself he didn’t need a reason to hate someone because that’s what most people thought. 

Minho knew that wasn’t a reasonable reason to hate someone, but it was fine because most people didn’t believe Minho to be reasonable. So, people excepted their own answer, without doubt, but with a lot of new judgement and assumptions. But Minho was used to that too.

People saw Minho as someone who hated easy, and Minho didn’t go out of his way to prove them wrong.

Sometimes when he was being more honest with himself, he would admit that he didn’t know why he hated Han. But that wasn’t entirely true either, but it was easier pretending that he didn’t know than admitting the truth, even to himself. 

He hated Jisung because he was loud and childish. 

He hated Jisung because he was popular without trying, and he didn’t realise it. 

He hated Jisung because he was younger and unfairly talented.

But mostly he hated Jisung because he was afraid of Minho. 

Minho knew people feared him, and he understood why. He didn’t make friends, he didn’t talk, he showed up to school all cut up from fights. People stared as he passed then looked the other way when he met their gaze. People made up rumours about his family, his past, him. A lot of people assumed he lost his fights, but if they looked closer, they would realise that the cuts on his knuckles were a lot deeper than the ones on his face. 

He didn’t really care what they thought though. Sure, it hurt when he heard people talking about him behind his back.

“That’s Lee Minho, he broke someone’s hand last year. Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was because he parked his car in his spot or something.”

Minho didn’t even drive, but it didn’t matter. People believed what they wanted. 

He could deal with the talking because what they said wasn’t true and it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him.

He wasn’t surprised that Jisung was scared of him, but it hurt, and Minho couldn’t explain why. He didn’t understand why Han was so different. 

So, he hated him and never addressed why.

“Absolutely not.” Jisung stopped in the middle of the yard refusing to move another step, his eyes were focused on the table furthest away, particularly at the boy sitting there. 

“Come on he’s like forever away.” Seungmin pulled on Jisung’s sleeve. “He probably won’t even realise you’re here.” 

Jisung didn’t believe that for a second but let Seungmin pull him towards a table his friends were waving furiously from. What was he supposed to do, let Minho dictate where he was going to sit?

As soon as he sat, he could feel Minho’s gaze. He knew this was a bad idea. Felix tried to include him in the conversation but Jisung couldn’t concentrate under his watch.

“Fuck.” He lay his head on his arms, slumped on the table. 

“If it’s honestly that bad we can move.” Suggested Hyunjin looking at Seungmin and Felix nervously, for confirmation. Felix nodded and Seungmin softly agreed.

“Yeah, we don’t have to stay.”

“We can find another table.” 

Jisung knew they couldn’t. They would be lucky if there were any left, let alone one as nice as this one. The particular table was situated under the ancient oak tree out the front if the school, the dappled shadow of the leaves projected onto the wooden surface. Hyunjin had been talking about getting one out the front since late the year before and had basically sprinted across the school to get there before anyone else.

“But you wanted this table so bad?” Jisung pouted tilting his head so they could see his face.

“Oh, I don’t really care.” Hyunjin was a terrible liar, but Jisung appreciated it anyway.

“it’s fine, you guys are right, he’s actually very far away. He smiled but didn’t lift his head from the table.

They were all silent for a second. Jisung’s lunch sat untouched on the table.

Seungmin was looking at something over Jisung’s shoulder. 

“Um... Jisung Hyung, he’s staring at you.” The other boys all looked up meeting Minho’s gaze, Jisung kept his head on the table. Felix waved and Jisung rolled his eyes.

Jisung didn’t understand what he had done to make Minho hate him. Everyone attempted to comfort him by saying that it was just Minho, who hated everyone, nothing on his part. He appreciated their intent, but their words only highlighted the difference between Minho’s hate for Jisung and Minho’s hate for the world. 

Eventually, he just excepted it and told himself that he was okay with Minho hating him, but he never really got used to it. After time Jisung learned to glare back. He doubted he looked half as intimidating, his cheeks were always too huge, but it felt right to hate the other boy back. But Jisung had never truly hated Minho. He had no reason to than Minho hated him.

Jisung was probably more scared of Minho than anything. There were plenty of stories floating around about how he liked getting into fights and the war wounds, that Minho did very little to hide, made the rumours almost impossible to dispute. 

He liked to pretend that he wasn’t afraid, however, he would be an idiot not to. There was something about the way his eyes narrowed, and posture tightened that betrayed his readiness to fight. It was his cold laugh and calculated movements that automatically made people watch their backs. Minho was a predator on the stalk, secretive, graceful, and dangerous. 

But Jisung refused to be prey. 

So, he fought back.  


Minho’s glares that were once met with terrified, wide-eyed fitful glances, were now met with the closest thing to daggers that Jisung could manage. 

He began to enjoy Minho’s reaction to his aggression. Riling him up was a childish form of entertainment, but that had always been a word people had used to describe Jisung. 

But it was a dangerous game. Teasing Minho was like walking up a ladder blinded. He couldn’t tell when the ladder ended or when Minho would snap, and every step made the fall greater. 

He hated Minho because Minho hated him, and he never understood why.


	2. Chapter 2 (Maybe he was who they were looking for)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels like nothing much happens here but its important I promise.

Chan slammed his phone face up onto the table, the screen cracking even more than it already was. Minho cringed at Chan’s carelessness and ran his thumb over the flawless screen on his own.

“Watch this” Chan said, now pushing the damaged device forward towards Changbin.

Chan had always been a little rough with his possessions. He didn’t care if they broke or got lost, so he had no qualms about lending things out, even if he wasn’t sure if they would return in the same condition.

Chan was selfless in other people’s eyes and they loved him for it. Minho didn’t disagree. He knew Chan would do anything for anyone and admired him for it, but his carelessness bothered Minho in a way that was difficult to explain.

He scolded Minho for being reluctant to let people borrow his things, on the rare occasion someone actually asked. He left Minho feeling bitter, angry and guilty. Chan just wanted him to be happy and Minho was ridiculously thankful, but sometimes he just went about it the wrong way.

Minho had to be selfish sometimes because he couldn’t afford not to. He couldn’t afford not to be careful because he didn’t have the money to fix or replace possessions broken with carelessness.

He wasn’t like Chan, who had wealthy parents to pay for their son to study and live overseas. He paid for his own things and sometimes Chan seemed to forget that.

Chan made up for his wealth with kindness, and he was the most grateful and caring person Minho had ever met. Sometimes he just had to lower his expectations of others and understand that sometimes selflessness was too expensive.

Changbin replayed the video.

Minho leaned back attempting to read Chan's expression. He still had no idea what they were watching and didn’t know how he was supposed to react. His face was blank so he just gave up, coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t a people person and he shouldn’t expect to be able to read people.

The video finished and Changbin looked up.

“Is that who I think it is?”

Chan nodded and passed the phone Minho. He played it.

The video was of a boy, maybe fourteen. He was rapping a song Minho didn’t recognise and he was good. Minho didn’t know much about music, but he could tell the kid had talent.

“It’s more than two years old, but I couldn’t find anything newer.” Chan paused. “I think he wrote it.”

“Who is it?” Minho asked softly. No one answered him, too busy with their own conversation. The username just read ‘ _rAp1oo_ ’, clearly made by a child and not all that helpful with finding the boy. His face was also shaded by a cap; his hoodie pulled over his head making shadows even more dominant.

“How did you even find this?”

“Just asked one of his friends. I saw he was taking music and…”

Minho checked the date on the video. Chan was right, just over 3 years ago. He would be roughly their age now, maybe slightly younger.

“They just gave away his old YouTube?” Changbin took the phone from Minho and clicked another video. “You better not do that if someone asks about me,” he shivered in horror, “no one wants that.”

Chan laughed, but they all knew that his dark past was all over the internet too.

They all were silent listening to the boy rap. This second one was similar in the terrible quality of the film and sound, but it was a cover and suddenly he was singing.

The sound in the video cracked but it was obvious that he was hitting the high notes.

“He… What?” Changbin shook his head as if he was seeing things.

“I know. If he’s had training since, which I think he has, he would be perfect.”

“I can ask Mr Kim if you want?” Changbin offered but Chan shook his head.

“No, I want to talk to him, I need to ask about ordering some new equipment too.”

Chan and Changbin had been looking for another rapper for the longest time. The school had a limited number of students seriously studying music and most of them were focusing on singing alone.

Minho personally thought that they had plenty of talent between the two of them to just do it by

themselves, but they were convinced that something was missing, and Minho didn’t know enough about music to dispute it.

Maybe this boy was who they were looking for.

Jisung dropped his bag to the floor and threw himself on his bed. The house was empty again. He used to prefer the quiet, but recently the silence had grown into loneliness. He clutched his mother’s note in his fist. He had left for school before she had woken up, she had worked a night shift, and it seemed like she would again tonight.

When would she get a break? He couldn’t remember her ever being this busy.

He had homework to do but his bed was a little too comfortable to leave.

His phone rung, shaking away the blanket of sleep falling over him. It was his dad. Jisung declined the call almost immediately.

He still hadn’t forgiven him for leaving them so suddenly. Again. It had been happening Jisung’s whole life, yet he still always believed it when he was told that this would be the last time.

He knew that his dad would rather be home, but it still stung when your father missed your birthday for the third year in a row.

Jisung sighed loudly, but there was no one around to hear it.

His stomach growled, but the kitchen was empty, he had already checked.

He probably should have gone shopping, and then cook. Or finished his homework. Or finally work on his music. However, he did none of that, because his sheets were cool, and the hum of the fan was soothing. Sleep took over again and this time his phone didn’t ring to break him out of it.

He awoke to the pitch black of night, the steady rhythm of his clock unusually loud.

He checked his phone, the white light harsh and blinding. He had four missed messages, one from his mother and the rest from Seungmin.

_20.34: Do you want food? I’ll bring it to your house._

_20.51: I’m here, are you asleep?_

_20.52: I’ll leave it outside the door, say hi to your mum for me :)_

He wished he had been awake when Seungmin had come around. He would have liked the company. He felt like he had been alone for days. He basically had.

He looked at the time. Ten-forty. He had school the next day, his sleeping schedule would be all fucked up again.

His mum wasn’t going to be home until tomorrow morning, probably after he had already left for school. He sighed and threw his phone down on the bed. He missed her.

He brought the food in from outside. It was cold but he had a microwave.

Seungmin often brought back left-over food from his family’s restaurant. He knew how much Jisung’s mum worked and how often one or both of them would just eat instant ramen, if anything. He had been bringing back food since they first met in middle school and it was always something that they pretend wasn’t charity.

He heated it up and ate it in the middle of the floor in the dark; the only source of light was the TV. He sat on the dirty wooden floorboards until the TV automatically turned off. The darkness enveloped the room, and he was left in pitch black, mind tired and fuzzy.

Fuck, his essay was due tomorrow.

Fuck, Mr Kim wanted his song written by tomorrow.

Jisung was foolish and tired, so he decided as he cleaned up his dinner, schoolwork seemed like a problem for the morning.

Just like the final message that his phone received that night.

_1.25: Hey Sungie, I heard your mum was working late tonight. Remember to eat, maybe one day soon you should come over and eat here. Miss you xx_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got this done pretty quickly and I think it turned out alright. I promise that Jeongin comes into it!


	3. Chapter 3 (He didn't want to think about him)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my best friends has to go back to Japan and I'm sad. The corona sucks.

“Felix, I haven’t done anything!” Jisung almost yelled into the phone. He was becoming increasingly distressed and Felix was struggling to keep him calm. He could hear the downstairs neighbours complaining about his pacing, which only added to his anxiety. 

Fuck, why did he have to procrastinate so much? It was the first music assignment of the year and he was going to fail it.

He was hyperventilating now. The sudden overwhelming wave of work, that hadn’t seemed to exist last night, crashed over his head.

He held his phone to his ear with a shaking hand. On the other end Felix’s voice sounded muffled and distant.

“It’s going to be okay, Jisung remember to breathe. How about you come to school early and we can work on it together?” 

Jisung took in a deep breath. It caught awkwardly in his throat. Keep calm, he still had time. Kind of.

“Yeah okay.” He paused remembering the business essay he had due. “Can you proofread an essay for me.”

“Sure. I can be there in ten, how about you?”

Jisung, having just gotten out of bed looked at his reflection in the mirror. 

“Fifteen.”

He decided not to deal with that other message yet, he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to. Maybe he never would. 

Wow, Minho hated life. 

He hated that he had to work before coming to school and he hated that he still arrived early.

He hated that it had rained on the walk, soaking his sweater, and he hated that once he arrived it stopped.

He hated having wet socks for the day and smelling like cheap coffee and petrol.

He hated Han and he hated that he was already in the library.

He hated that Han flinched when he saw Minho at the door and how his eyes widened before narrowing.

He didn’t know that Han wore glasses, they magnified his eyes making him seem even more innocent and afraid.

They promptly decided to pretend the other wasn’t there. Han, it seemed was too busy to actively hate him today. Minho walked over to the other side of the library and settles down behind the bookshelves on the beanbags. 

He could feel Jisung’s friends’ eyes follow him cautiously. He would be cautious too if someone with his reputation hated one of his friends.

Hanging out in the library before school didn’t do too much for his bad-boy image, but honestly, Minho never tried to upkeep it, it was more something that happened naturally. Maybe it was just a part of who Minho was, tied with his being, a piece of him impossible to escape.

It was what everyone thought of him, so it had to be. Majority rules right. 

He watched Han and his friend get up and leave, and for a second he was sad to see them go. Hating Han was fun in a way, it was amusing watching him hate back. 

A girl turned the corner around the shelves to come face to face with him. She flinched, eyes wide and scared. 

Minho barely looked up from his phone at her. 

“Sorry” she basically whimpered, before backtracking as fast as possible. 

He sighed and leaned back down into his beanbag. 

Maybe she didn’t realise how loud she was being, or maybe his hearing was just better than she had expected because he could easily hear her conversation. She was on the other side of the bookcases, sitting crossed legged facing her friend. He could see their shoes under the shelves.

He tried to ignore them, but their words burned through his head. 

“You should have seen it Nim, god he must hate me so much.” 

He didn’t hate her. 

Her friend laughed.

“He hates everyone.”

Did he?

“Nim it was his eyes. He narrowed them and suddenly he was so dangerous. Pretty, but deadly.”  
Like a predator. 

“I didn’t know you liked bad boys!” Nim giggled and the girl shushed her. 

“Lee Minho is too much trouble for me. It would be like dating a tiger.”

“Shame, he’s cute.”

Jisung sat though business with his mostly finished essay, and a whole flock of butterflies residing in his stomach. He didn’t pay attention in any of the class and was instead scribbling lyrics. 

With Felix’s support, mainly keeping him calm, he was able to develop the beat into a track that he was somewhat satisfied with. He wasn’t sold on it, it was slightly more passive than he would have liked, but maybe he would suit it. He had always liked lyrical tracks, so maybe today was the day to just go for it. 

Her message burned under his skin, guilt eating up his conscience. He didn’t want to think about her today, he didn’t want to think about him.

The bell rang and his stomach dropped.

He muttered bye to Seungmin who wished him luck.

The walk to the studios went too fast and too slow at the same time. His mind was running with lyric ideas, but none were sticking.

His hand was sweating around the hard drive. 

When he opened the door to the studio, Mr Kim was already in there, as was another student. He had bleached blond hair and Jisung recognised him. He was a year older that Jisung, he was Minho’s friend.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Jisung muttered even though he was on time.

“Jisung, this is Chan. He’s one of my students and he also focuses on rapping and producing.” Mr Kim smiled fondly at Chan and Jisung narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Do you mind if I watch your evaluation?” Chan asked, and Jisung was taken aback with how softly he spoke. He was expecting him to snap, reminiscent of Minho. But where Minho’s gaze was cold Chan’s was warm and Jisung wondered briefly how they could be friends. 

He nodded because he knew that getting noticed by older students could help when it came to finding opportunities. And he would be an idiot not to try to get on the good side of someone who Mr Kim seemed to speak so highly of.

“Excellent.” Mr Kim clapped his and Jisung winced slightly. 

“Let’s get going then”

Jisung’s hands fumbled as he plugged the hard drive into his laptop and connected it to the sound system.

Fuck it. 

Freestyle is what he was good at anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to set everything up properly and actually get onto the story.


	4. Chapter 4 (He was tired of constantly proving himself to be exactly what everyone said he was)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the lyrics of I see and just ran with it. I don't know anything about music, but oh well

_“I’m finding oasis in the desert_   
_I’m looking for hope in the dark_   
_And I can't seem to see anything_   
_I must find it; I'm still looking for it_   
_Though I know I won't ever catch it_   
_Because I left the light of you in the past_   
_my memory of you is too bright, so I stretch out my hand to cover my eyes_   
_Both my eyes are closed again, and I’ve lost you._

_I’m scared of losing your memory_   
_it’s all I have left, I cut the ties_   
_the thread between me and you has been severed, I arm the jealousy that parted us_   
_I live everyday hands tied; I’ll keep walking the streets looking at my two feet_   
_They ran away from you, and they carry the guilt I bear_

_I don’t want to take a rest_   
_I don’t want to accept the forgiveness they’ve gifted me._   
_I struggle to continue without you, you struggled because of me_   
_My home that was once with you has been burned_   
_But I still dream of the return_   
_I can’t help but wish one day I’ll be back home._

_The mirage that I saw_   
_Seemed to be a fairy tale that would never exist_   
_An impossible future, I wish for so dearly_   
_Where I became successful because you loved me_   
_I can’t help but have divided reactions to this mirage._   
_Half to half to half and to half of it_   
_l smile at the idea and cry with the impossibility_   
_Without you, the world became so lonely_   
_Since when was the world so lonely_   
_But this mirage of you_   
_I see”_

Mr Kim finished the recording and Jisung left the studio feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

He hadn’t meant to rap about her, him. But it was on his mind. He wished she could just forget about him, he wished she hadn’t already forgiven him. He wished she hated him. He goddamn deserved it.

Chan approached him after school. Jisung was walking home having already said goodbye to his friends, earphones in.

He didn’t hear Chan calling after him until he was directly behind him, breathing heavily though his nose from running to catch up.

Jisung pulled out his earphone and waited for Chan to catch his breath.

“You freestyled that didn’t you?”

Jisung rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

  
“Yeah”

“Hmm I could tell; it was good though.” Chan smiled and once again Jisung was floored how different he was to Minho.

“Much better than the ones on YouTube.” Chan laughed at the expression on Jisung’s face. Fuck he had forgotten about them.

“If you want,” he continued, “You can join me and Changbin, we’re trying to make a rap and producing group and I think you would be a valuable asset.”

Jisung laughed at his formality.

“Really”

“You must be a good songwriter if your freestyle was, you know? I would ask what it was about, but it sounded personal.” Chan pulled out his phone while Jisung laughed awkwardly.

He hesitated before putting his number in Chan’s phone. Chan was friends with Minho and Minho hated him. If Chan wasn’t as friendly as he seemed, if Chan secretly hated him just as much, Jisung didn’t want to think about what they could do with his personal details.

He still put it in, because Chan wasn’t like Minho. He seemed trustworthy, he seemed kind. His eyes looked at Jisung with a playful curiosity, like he couldn’t wait to see what he did next, like Jisung excited him.

His smile seemed tired and hopeful, and his gaze seemed desperate. Desperate for Jisung to say yes. It had been a long time since he had felt needed. So, he gave Chan his number.

He didn’t need to be friends with Minho by making music with one of his friends anyway.

_The mirage that I saw_

_Seemed to be a fairy tale that would never exist_

_An impossible future, I wish for so dearly_

_Where I became successful because you loved me_

_I can’t help but have divided reactions to this mirage_

_Half to half to half and to half of it_

_l smile at the idea and cry with the impossibility_

_Without you, the world became so lonely_

_Since when was the world so lonely_

_But this mirage of you_

_I see_

Minho sat alone on the floor. The sunlight through the window faded as the afternoon became evening. It could have been peaceful, but the impending darkness was suffocating.

He wanted to run to the studio, hide his loneliness behind sweat and grace. Pretend for an hour that everything was okay, and he wasn’t himself. He wanted to dance until he couldn’t feel his limbs and he was too tired to remember the day.

But he had left his key at Chan's and he wasn’t going to get it back until tomorrow, because even though it was certain that Chan would still be up, he would scold Minho for doing the same.

Instead, he searched for his cats, but none were home. He felt lonely without them.

He wasn’t surprised, the world had always been this lonely.

He got out his phone and searched _rAp1oo_.

The account had been deleted.

He threw the device across the room onto the couch, a rash action that he wouldn’t usually risk.

His restlessness grew as the room descended into darkness. His apartment was too small for any form of exercise and he had no outside destination.

His frustration slowly transformed into anger.

He hated how small his apartment was.

He hated how he couldn’t act on his anger in fear of breaking something.

He hated that he forgot his key.

He hated Han for being at school early, and for looking good even though he had just rolled out of bed.

He hated the words the girls spoke about him.

He hated that they were right.

He was so, so tired of his life. Of the constant, desperate search, where he didn’t even know what he was looking for.

He was tired of constantly proving himself to be everything anyone said he was.

He was tired of waiting for his life to change, but not expecting anything.

_I’m finding oasis in the desert_   
_I’m looking for hope in the dark_   
_And I can't seem to see anything_   
_I must find it, I'm still looking for it_   
_Though I know I won't ever catch it_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is going to be the last chapter before a time jump, so i guess the introduction is finished.


	5. Chapter 5 (Because no matter what Minho would always hate him)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to stop setting things up and actually get into the action, but here I am after a time jump still setting things up.
> 
> Just to clarify that this chapter is set a couple of months after the previous and is mostly kind of them filling in the gap between the two.

Jisung didn’t think his life had changed that much since he gave Chan his number.

He was still struggling to keep on top of his work. He was getting no better at not procrastinating.

He was still eating dinner alone, on the floor in the dark.

His mum was still working.

His dad was still constantly away. 

Minho still hated him.

But it was so much worse now so maybe his life had changed a lot.

3racha was one of the best things that had happened to Jisung in a long time. Chan and Changbin provided him with the motivation and drive he had been desperately searching for, and he gave them a burst of energy and fresh ideas that they wanted. 

But it came with Minho which wasn’t good for anyone. 

Changbin and Chan both proved themselves to be lovely people who Jisung became fast friends with. 

Chan was as different to Minho as Jisung had originally guessed. He was a natural-born leader and one of the most selfless people Jisung had ever met. 

And he was ridiculously talented. 

He had a passion for music that Jisung had never seen in anyone before, and when he was around it was impossible not to be just as motivated. 

Changbin took a while to warm up to Jisung. When Chan had first introduced them, he glared at Jisung with narrowed eyes that made his skin crawl. 

He was intimidating too. He was muscly, with an aggressive style of rap and a dark sense of style. So much so that Jisung didn’t even notice that Changbin was significantly shorter than himself until the fourth time they met. 

He hates me too. 

Except Changbin didn’t hate him. It quickly became clear that he was just incredibly overprotective over his friends. 

Changbin seemed to quickly determine that Jisung wasn’t a threat and dropped his intimidating persona. Baby Changbin was scary in a completely different way. 

Soon Jisung was one of the people Changbin would fight for and after some consideration, Changbin decided that he might even fight Minho for him. 

To Jisung there was a difference between making friends and becoming friends. You made friends with people who you were nice too. You made friends with people who you waved to in the hallways. You sat with them in classes and introduced them as your friend. Jisung set out to make friends with Chan and Changbin, instead, he became friends with them. 

When you become friends with someone you hang out with them. You laugh until you can’t breathe. They tell you their secrets and you trust them with yours. If they ask you to do something you do it and don’t ask questions.

Jisung became friends with Chan and Changbin. He became friends with them the same way he became friends with Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix. He didn’t mean to and it made everything far too complicated. 

Because no matter what Minho would always hate him, and Jisung would always claim to hate him back. 

Jisung was first invited to hang out with them by Changbin. He had declined because he wasn’t quite ready to spend time in the same area as Minho yet.

The first time he had excepted was when Chan had invited him to stop at the ice-cream shop on the way home. But only after Chan had seen the look on his face and informed him the Minho would not be attending. Chan was much too good at reading Jisung for the time that they had known each other. 

He had gone and it had been fun, but the evening had left Jisung feeling guilty and angry. The others had enjoyed Jisung’s company and he was glad for it, but he didn’t fill the gap that Minho’s absence had created. He didn’t miss how Changbin had almost addressed the empty space as Minho, asking if he wanted a drink. He turned a blind eye when Chan looked down, disappointed when he referenced an inside joke only Minho would have understood.

Jisung got it, they were a unit, without Minho they were incomplete. It was the same with his friends. Yet he felt like a spare piece, that they liked to have around but really, they wanted the piece he was replacing. Minho was the piece that belonged and only when he left was there a gap for Jisung to fit in. There wasn’t going to be a time where both belonged in the group at once. 

Jisung was okay with this. He didn’t really want to hang out while Minho was there, and he assumed that Minho felt the same. But it made the others sad, which made Jisung feel guilty. Then again it wasn’t his fault that Minho hated him. 

Why couldn’t Minho just get over it? He didn’t have to like him, just tolerate him. It would make it so much simpler.

Minho hadn’t said anything when he found out that the boy in the video was Han. 

He didn’t say anything when Chan told him that he had accepted the invitation to join the group.

It wasn’t really his business if his friends wanted to make music with the kid. He wouldn’t admit it, but Han was good, and they would be stupid not to just because Minho hated him. 

He didn’t say anything about Han because everyone already knew how he felt about him.

It was clear by the way Chan tried not to mention his name. 

It was clear by the way they only invited Han to the things Minho had already said no to. 

It was clear by the way that Changbin only stopped to talk to Han if Minho wasn’t around. 

It was clear by the way that none of them looked at his table during lunch.

They weren’t happy about it though and Minho got why. 

His hate for Han was upsetting everyone. 

After Jisung was adopted by Chan and Changbin into their little music group hating Jisung became a lot harder. Not that Minho found him any more likeable, just his friends talked highly of him.

Whenever one of them suggested they invite Jisung somewhere, Minho would suddenly have an excuse of why he couldn’t go or just flat out refuse to come one of them invited the kid. 

So, hating Jisung became harder, because hating him meant that Minho upset his friends. Minho was good at that. Upsetting people seemed to come naturally to him. 

No matter how hard he tried to avoid it Jisung was becoming more and more tangled in Minho’s life. 

Early in the year, it became obvious that not enough seniors were taking dance to run the subject. Minho on the outside remained cold and indefinite, but on the inside, he was desperate for the course to go ahead. Dance was his only escape from the nightmare that was his life. It was the only time that he could put a mask on and pretend to be someone other than the horrible person who he was. 

Luckily for him, the course did run, unfortunately, it meant that Han just had another path to branch into his life. 

The only way to run the course was to merge with the class below him. At first, he was annoyed because younger students had fewer skills and being annoyed was his nature. 

Later he was annoyed because the younger students included Felix and Hyunjin, Han’s friends.

They were wild and excitable. Talented no doubt, but crazily energetic in the same way Han was. And he hated that he couldn’t look at them without being reminded him. 

They both danced, with an energy and passion that Minho had lost somewhere along the way. Minho was technically more advanced, but they performed with such enthusiasm that you couldn’t help but be entertained. 

They also looked good together. The way Felix moved complimented the way Hyunjin did, and vice versa. Together they danced like they were one and Minho didn’t want to admit it, but he was jealous. 

Hyunjin and Felix had the type of friendship that you were jealous of and it was obvious it extended to Han and their other friend Seungmin. 

He knew he also had friends like that but watching them during dance just made him feel lonely. He couldn’t help but wished they liked him. 

Unfortunately, they were wary of him and honestly Minho couldn’t blame them. Because he was Minho, dangerous, elegant, and wild. 

He was a predator and he hated their friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets hope that the next chapter is actually interesting.  
> Also I'm finally doing online school, so hopefully I will be able to write more and the chapters will be longer.


	6. Chapter 6 (Nothing's better than this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter so far. I like it a lot. Maybe that's why its the longest.  
> Also I was to excited to edit properly, whoops.

“Umm Jisung…” Felix and Hyunjin both stood by the table without sitting down.

“Yeah?” He looked up.

Felix rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well for dance we have to do a group dance with one of the seniors, and…”

“and we were wondering if you would be ok with us asking Minho to do it with us?” Hyunjin interrupted.

Seungmin and Jisung both stared at them.

“What?”

Felix flushed, embarrassed.

“We wouldn’t if you didn’t want us too, but he’s actually very good and the other seniors are all classically trained not hip hop and he is and-”

Jisung cut him off.

“You want my permission to ask Minho to do a project with you?”

“Yeah” Hyunjin mumbles sheepishly.

“Dude what the hell, of course.” Jisung frowned, confused.

“Oh okay, thanks,” Felix said, his face pink.

Hyunjin sat down next to Jisung but didn’t meet his eyes when he looked over.

“Did you guys really think I would say no?” Jisung put his hand on top of Hyunjin’s which was resting on the table. Hyunjin squirmed slightly under his touch.

“Well… maybe?” Felix hesitated, not really sure what he was expecting. “I, we didn’t want you to think that we didn’t care that he hated you.” He paused “That didn’t make any sense.”

“We thought it would be pretty shitty to just do it without asking,” Hyunjin said pulling his hand out from under Jisung’s, blushing slightly.

“Guys, I trust you. You’re my friends and I’m really glad you wanted to make sure I’m ok with it, but honestly, you didn’t need to. As long as Minho doesn’t treat you like shit, then I’m fine with it.”

Hyunjin met his eyes and smiled lightly.

“Anyway,” Seungmin interjected. “It’s not like Minho’s friends don’t hang out with Jisung.”

Jisung reached across the table and slapped him playfully. He was glad that Seungmin had spoken though, he had broken the awkward tension between them all.

Felix laughed and gently pushed Seungmin too.

Jisung threw his arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders and smiled into his neck.

“You have to better than him though.” He said into Hyunjin’s skin.

Hyunjin giggled and gently removed Jisung’s arm.

“Of course.”

Jisung smiled at him.

“And he can’t be your best friend, that will always be me.” He poked Hyunjin’s cheek.

Hyunjin bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“Get a room you too.” Felix laughed.

Hyunjin stiffened under Jisung’s hand and Jisung let it drop to rest on his shoulder.

“That goes for you too.” He said, pointing at Felix who was grinning. “Don’t go become his best friend.”

“We have to actually ask him still Dingbat,” Felix said. He looked over at Minho’s table and Jisung followed his gaze.

Minho had his head rested on the table, staring off into the distance. A large hoodie swallowed his frame. It was hard to tell by his posture now but Jisung knew he would be a good dancer. Minho moved with the power of a fighter and the elegance of a dancer. It was enchanting and dangerous.

“Hopefully he says yes, otherwise this super awkward conversation was pointless.” Seungmin laughed poking Felix in the ribs. He slapped Seungmin’s hand away.

Jisung looked for Hyunjin to see his reaction, but he was gone. His phone lay on the table abandoned.

Felix sighed.

“I’ll take that back for him.”

“Is he okay?” Seungmin asked as Felix picked up the device.

“I don’t know.” Felix sighed again.

Jisung could only think about how Hyunjin had frozen under his hand.

_What did I do wrong?_

Once again Jisung sat on the floor in the dark. What had he done to upset Hyunjin? The afternoon's events all merged together creating an anagram of the original. What had caused Jinnie to shrug off his arm and freeze under his touch?

Jisung didn’t like not understanding his friends and he had been in a bad mood the whole evening. An unnameable guilt built inside him and he hadn’t been able to concentrate on work for the life of him, resulting in another night of procrastination.

Like always on a night like this, one where the world seemed so big and lonely and Jisung felt so helpless, he ended up typing his name into his phone.

_Tommy_

Like always he stared at the follow button, desperate to see what it hid, but too afraid to do anything.

_3 years ago_

_It was one of those lazy days when time seemed irrelevant. The only thing that was important was Jisung, Tommy and the endless sky._

_Taking their bikes out had been something they had done since they were old enough to. Sometimes Deaun would come, but Jisung liked it better when she didn’t._

_They would ride for hours, exploring every corner of the city until they knew it better than the back of their hand._

_Tommy’s favourite thing to do was find the furthest skate park possible and spend the day making friends and making trouble, and Jisung’s favourite thing to do way go wherever Tommy was._

_They never did this when Deaun came. When she came, they rode down the nice streets, the ones with lights, flower beds and ice cream shops._

_When she wasn’t, they went down the back streets, without her they went the places their parents should never find out about._

_“Deaun’s to pretty to be here.” Tommy would whisper as they faced dimly lit streets and what Jisung liked to call the taste of adventure._

_And Jisung would agree because they had so much fun in the places, they went without her. And because without her, Tommy’s smile belonged to him._

_They had left as early as they were allowed. Both of them had their skateboards and Jisung had a backpack full of spray cans in the hope they were out long enough for graffiti to be a possibility._

_They wasted the day away, skating down empty streets and enjoying each other’s company in the way that only best friends could._

_Weekends were their haven because, regardless of the immense amount of pleading, they still went to different schools._

_Tommy’s family had that old kind of money, where no one knows where it came from and people respect you for it. Not that you would guess from his unruly hair and splattered freckles. His family didn’t flaunt their money, but it just meant that they sent their son to a school more expensive than Jisung’s parents could afford. A school who forced their students to wear a uniform, blazers even. Jisung teased Tommy about the uniform a lot._

_“You should see Deaun. She has to wear this super ugly long grey skirt.” Deaun went to the same school, though she was a year older than Tommy and two older than Jisung._

_“Yeah but she doesn’t have to wear a tie!” Jisung giggled._

_So, they only ever saw each other on weekends, and they made the most of the time they had._

_Finally, as the sun started to set Tommy told Jisung to follow him._

_Tommy wouldn’t tell him where they were going and Jisung played along like he cared. They could be going anywhere, and he would be happy as long as it was Tommy who was taking him there._

_They weren’t going anywhere special. They arrived at a skate park not far from their houses and Jisung was delighted to find it empty. He knew Tommy liked to meet strangers, but Jisung had always been a little shy when it came to new people. He liked it better when it was just them. Anyway, he could only paint when no one else was there. They didn't talk for a bit. Tommy skated and Jisung painted, silently enjoying each other’s company._

_“There’s nothing better than this,” Tommy said jumping off his board._

_“What?” Jisung asked just so he could here Tommy answer._

_“This,” He gestured around at the empty park. “You, me.”_

_Jisung couldn’t help but agree._

_Nights like this were different. The sound of Tommy’s skateboard rolling against the concrete mixed with the cicadas and the metallic ting of the silver ball in Jisung’s cans._

_The stars were faint, drowned out by the bright streetlights, but the mystery of them was still there. It felt like they were the only two people in the world and Jisung loved it._

_Tommy came over to stand next to Jisung. They both looked at his half-finished artwork, painted on the side of the dingy bathrooms just to the left of the park._

_The snake Jisung was painting, winded around the already existing graffitied words, turning the tags into an artwork._

_“That’s sick man,” Tommy ruffled Jisung’s hair, “You’ve gotten so much better.”_

_“Thank you.” Jisung turned and looked up at Tommy. Tommy looked back grinning. He looked so pretty like this, he looked free._

_They were only half a metre away and Jisung could see each individual freckle on Tommy’s face. He swallowed. A tension was growing between the two and Jisung wondered if he was the only one who could feel it._

_“You’ve got paint on your face.” Tommy lifted a hand and whipped the pigment away with his thumb. Jisung’s skin burned under his touch._

_“Shit, that only smudged it. Sorry.” Tommy laughed softly._

_“It’s okay,” Jisung said barely above a whisper because he would be okay with anything Tommy did as long as he kept smiling at Jisung like that._

_Neither of them said anything, they just kept staring at each other. Jisung with wide eyes and Tommy with a smile that made everything okay. Tommy ran his thumb over Jisung’s cheek again._

_Jisung eyes fluttered shut for a second and Tommy giggled. Tommy’s laugh might have been the most beautiful sound in the universe._

_Jisung would have stayed in this moment forever. Just the two of them, under the streetlight, Tommy’s hand on his cheek and the stars glittering in his eyes._

_Jisung didn’t know if he was relieved when Tommy’s phone rang. The tension in the air disappeared as Tommy dropped his hand and stepped away to answer it. Jisung stayed frozen in place, staring at the empty air where Tommy was a second ago._

_“We should go Jisung. It’s late”_

_Jisung could only nod in response._

_They rode to his house first, and for the first time ever, Jisung couldn’t bring himself to turn and say goodbye._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just Jisung for this chapter. The next one might only be Minho, I don't know yet.


	7. Chapter 7 (Five years)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's important to the plot but I really didn't like writing it.

Minho should have known that he would slip up and fall for Chan’s tricks at least once, but as he entered the café, Jisung sitting at the table staring at him and Chan’s hand on his arm to prevent him from leaving, he wished it wasn’t today.

Not now, not at _that_ time of year.

His hand froze on the door handle as he stared at the boy thought the glass. Minho’s face moulded into the scowl he wasn’t expecting to wear today, and Jisung’s eyes narrowed in response.

Minho almost smiled, he liked Han’s hate a lot more than he liked his fear.

Jisung moved to get up but Changbin placed his hand on Jisung’s shoulder, and the boy sat back down again. Changbin looked up and made eye contact with Chan. Out the corner of his eye, Minho saw Chan nod and Minho realised that they had planned this together.

Minho pulled his arm out of Chan’s grip.

“Please Minho,” Chan whispered, he sounded desperate and a little scared.

_Did they have to do this now?_

Minho didn’t say anything. He pushed open the door and walked over anyway and sat down as far away from Han as possible. Chan visibly relaxed as they sat, but his hand still clenched as if he was ready to stop Minho from leaving any second. The younger boy was staring at the table to avoid their gaze. Changbin looked around the table as if he was both amused and intimidated by the scene.

No one spoke.

Chan poured himself a glass of water and sipped it like nothing was wrong. Jisung started looking at the menu, glancing cautiously at the other every few seconds.

Minho leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms glaring at Jisung, who met his gaze faltering slightly under the intensity.

A young waiter approached the table, looking at them a little scared. Her knuckles were white from the tight grip on her clipboard. Chan followed Minho’s gaze, looked up at her and smiled.

“I don’t believe we’re ready yet.”

The girl nodded, her face falling into a relaxed smile, relieved not to have to deal with this situation.

The table fell quiet again.

The silence built and built until Changbin couldn’t take it anymore.

He let out a nervous laugh and the others laughed too; the tension was broken.

Han looked down into his lap and giggled lightly. His cheeks were pink with embarrassment and he covered them with his hands.

Minho’s grip on his water glass tightened.

“Minho,” Chan stirred his coffee and Minho looked up from his own. The waitress had come back out and had taken their orders. “Jisung mentioned that you were doing a dance project with some of his friends?”

Jisung flinched slightly at the mention of his name. Minho simply nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What were they’re names again?” Chan asked, smirking because it was obvious, he remembered. He just wanted Minho to speak.

“Hyunjin and Felix,” Minho said though his teeth. He didn’t have a problem with them, but he didn’t like how easily Chan was getting him to play his game.

“Felix…” Chan paused as if deep in thought. Minho rolled his eyes. “Isn’t he from Australia?”

“Yes.”

“He moved last year,” Jisung added quietly. Couldn’t he just stay out of this?

Changbin looked between them like it was the most interesting thing to ever happen to him. Minho gritted his teeth. He was falling into their trap even though he could see it as clear as day.

“I think I would like to meet him,” Chan stated as if this wasn’t what he was planning all along. “Minho do you think you’d be able to introduce us?”

“I can if you want Hyung,” Jisung muttered, not looking up from his hot chocolate.

_Shut up, you’re falling for the trap. Han was too trusting for his own good._

“What a good idea!”

“You’re so bad at acting Hyung” Minho shook his head.

Jisung looked up confused and Changbin bit his hand to keep himself from laughing.

Chan continued like he hadn’t heard anything.

“How about you introduce them to all of us, together. How about next time we all hang like this they can come too.” He smiled at them with glittering eyes, knowing that no one would say no to him.

“Oh, and that baseball kid, he can come too right.” Changbin grinned, draining the rest of his lemonade.

“Seungmin” Jisung said at the same time Chan said

“Of course!”

_Fuck, Chan could really get them to do anything._

Changbin pulled Minho aside as they left the café.

“Thank you.” He said once the others had moved out of earshot.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I know, thank you for not making a big deal of this.” Changbin smiled at him again and Minho frowned down at him.

They just stood looking at each other, both waiting for the other to speak again. This is fucking stupid. He stepped away from Changbin to go home.

“Minho,” Changbin called softly. He hadn’t planned this. “You are going to come next time, right?”

Minho sighed.

“Do I have a choice?”

Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, slightly offended at Minho’s comment, even though he was well aware they had Minho in their trap.

Minho softened.

“You know I would do anything Chan asked me too.”

Changbin laughed gently.

“We all would.”

Minho’s apartment was empty again. His nan had said she was going to try to come around again, but he hadn’t expected her to. She loved Minho more than anything, but she was old and feeble to the point where travelling was dangerous to her. Minho would rather his apartment stayed empty than put her at risk.

But it was that time of year again, where he avoided looking at the calendar, hoping that the date would pass without notice, and like every year it was god damn lonely.

Unwillingly he ran his hand over the almost invisible scar along his collar bone. It would five years old this year, the only physical mark left on him from that day. The one he was scared to remember but was never going to forget.

He rang his nan.

“I’ll come around as soon as the holidays start.” He promised her. “I wished I could come sooner but schools really kicking my ass and I can’t afford to miss any at the moment.” He laughed like nothing was wrong, but it sounded empty.

She didn’t scold him for his language, she never had.

“Minho darling, you can call me whenever you know. We both feel lonely sometimes.”

Minho knew that this time was hard on her too and hated that neither of them would ask for help.

Minho was too much like his Nan. They both tried to pretend that spring was the same as any other season. They both tried to pretend that the blossoms didn’t make Minho feel sick.

He knew that they both started using the days of the week to make plans instead of the dates when the anniversary came around, as if they didn’t address it, it might not come around.

He knew they both would be acutely aware when the day came around anyway.

God, he missed her, and he knew his nan did too.

It had been five years since it happened, five years since they’d last seen her, and every year the pain felt fresh.

This spring would mark the fifth anniversary of Minho’s mum’s death because five years ago their tiny red car was crushed by a speeding driver, who didn’t stop to see the damaged he’d caused.

It had been five years since Minho had escaped with nothing but a cut on his collar while his mum was crushed alive in the driver’s seat.

It had been five years since Minho’s life had fallen apart and any love he had left for the world vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew there was going to be some from of tragic background.


	8. Chapter 8 (Don't leave me again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Minho, I've really made your life suck.  
> Also Minho definitely has some mental health issues so I'm sorry if that's triggering to you. I didn't really set out for that to be the case but it just seemed more realistic considering his past.

Minho didn’t show up to school for the rest of the week. Jisung didn’t ask why and no one told him.

He hadn’t introduced Chan or Changbin to his friends yet, but with Minho gone, he hung out with them more, but they were sad and distant. The reason behind Minho’s absence hung thick in the air, suffocating and undeniable, everyone could feel it.

Jisung felt out the loop, feeling more than ever like Minho’s replacement. He didn’t say anything though, Minho hated him, and it didn’t seem like his place to know.

Chan tried to smile but his eyes were sad. Jisung tried to smile back but it felt empty.

Jisung felt uneasy sitting at Minho’s place at the table. The lunches were awkward and silent. Chan tried to make conversation, and the others tried to replicate his energy, but the talk was trivial, and they were all too caught up in Minho’s absence to concentrate.

Minho’s impact on the group was blinding. When he was gone, the boys were sad. When he was missing it was so, so much worse. Jisung usually noticed how comfortable they were with Minho there and the gaps in conversation his absence created.

Now he was seeing how much they cared for him.

Something was very, very wrong. Minho missing now was different.

Different because they weren’t just missing Minho, they were sad, they were scared.

Changbin was uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes were sombre and dark, a stark contrast to the fun and light that they usually held. Jisung was forcefully reminded of his first opinion of the older boy, where he had wrongly judged him. Once again Changbin looked like the intimidating, dark rapper to the point where Jisung was almost afraid of him.

Chan didn’t just look sad. He looked tired, worried, broken. He moved slower, with less energy. His eyes wandered to where Jisung sat more often and each time Jisung felt guilty for not being who Chan was looking for. Every action he made screamed with his care for Minho, and his discomfort with not having him there. His destroyed phone sat face up on the table and Chan was checking it constantly. Every time he turned it on the whole table held their breath, and each release only led to an increase in tension.

Chan noticed Jisung’s gaze,

“I’m waiting for him to call. When things get too much for him, he dances. When that’s not enough he fights. He doesn’t have anyone else to tell him when to stop.”

Chan paused again, he smiled softly again.

“I’m worried I’ll get there too late; I’m worried he’ll take it too far.”

Jisung swallowed and nodded.

He had seen the bruises, the evidence of Minho’s fights. The ones that got him his reputation, the ones that started rumours. He had seen Minho’s bandaged fists and bloodied knuckles. He had seen the animalistic glint in Minho’s smile, and the hunter’s instinct in his glare.

He had seen Minho at ease with the predator inside him and he didn’t think he wanted to see him when the beast took over.

Minho wandered the streets looking for trouble, armed only with bare fists, alcohol-driven anger and blinding sadness. As hard as he had tried to ignore it, the anniversary still came around and he was far too aware of it.

He dealt with his grief the same way he always had. Drinking until his sorrow transformed into anger, releasing the animal inside, letting it take control.

The streets were empty under a midnight sky, leaving Minho only himself to fight.

“FUCKING KILLERS!” He screamed at the passing cars.

The smell of petrol and the rumble of the engine made him sick to the stomach, feeding his burning anger.

“MONSTERS!”

The evil part of his brain grinned wickedly and forced itself to the front. _You’re describing yourself now._

The blinding red anger subsided just long enough for him to catch sight of his own reflection in the glass front of a shop. To see the monster in his place. An animal driven by hate, guided by the killer instinct. He was a predator.

He laughed at his reflection. His smile was sharp and dangerous.

Grief changed people. It tore them down, breaking them into pieces, and when reassembled the scars showed.

Minho’s showed clearly. From his refusal to drive to his hate of spring. His reoccurring habit to dance until he couldn’t move, and the animalistic tendency’s anger brought out, Minho’s scars were obvious. Much more apparent than the single physical one.

His grief drove him crazy, it always had. Running the streets had become the only way he could stop his own hands from destroying himself.

As much as he was falling apart the monster held him together. Dressing him up with dark eyeliner and leather jackets, silver chains and The Devils smile.

He looked dangerous, he felt dangerous.

Minho had always been considered a delinquent, a fighter, a kid people didn’t like their children being friends with.

They were right.

Minho had never been the most physically intimidating. He was lean and short with delicate features; he was pretty and could have easily been a model if life had been kinder to him.

Yet he scared people.

He had the dancer’s athletic body which made him a good fighter, and nothing to lose which made him a good winner.

He was crazy, didn’t think about the consequences of his actions, didn’t seem able to feel pain.

No matter how bruised or cut up he ended up, no physical pain could compare to the hole left where his heart should be.

So, picking fights ended up being the way he dealt with anger.

It was going to kill him one day according to Chan, but until it did the pain felt so fucking good.

After walking, screaming for what felt like hours Minho finally collapsed. He lay on the pavement, crying and laughing.

He laughed like a mad man, rolling on the cold concrete, tears streaming down his face. His makeup ran, dark circles smudging around his eyes.

The stones dug into his back as he looked up at the sky, trying to make out the stars, faint amongst the light pollution.

“Are you an angel Mum?” He whispered to the stars.

“I bet you are, you were too beautiful for anywhere but heaven,” he laughed and cried until he was coughing.

“I’m going to hell Mum,” he was ugly crying now, “I’ve hurt too many people to meet you in heaven.”

He cried until he fell asleep, the pavement soaking up the blood and tears he shed.

He would look like he had lost the fight tomorrow. He had. Each year grief got the better of him. Each year his pain became worse, plaguing him with nightmares until he tore himself apart.

Because even if the pain felt good, he was still hurting.

He lay on the pavement, wishing it would swallow him, so his body could lay beside his mother under the ground. He fell asleep wanting never to wake up.

_Minho was standing at the foot of his mother’s grave. He was wearing the same suit he had at her funeral, but he had grown a bit since he was thirteen, so the bitter cold crept up his exposed ankles and wrist. Rain snaked down the collar running over his chest under the cheap fabric._

_Her framed photo still sat in front of the headstone, but the weather had taken its toll. Black mould grew over the ink, slowly consuming her. Minho squeezed his eyes shut, the tears forming in his eyes falling._

_“Don’t leave me again.”_

_The photograph didn’t reply._

_He shook the rain out of his hair._

_“Do you miss me?”_

_“Of course, Minnie.”_

_Minho spun around to face a man, wearing a dark blue suit and a gentle smile. He was meticulously dry despite the heavy downpour._

_Minho’s father._

_“Why are you here.” Minho spat stepping away._

_“I miss you,” His dad said, smile unchanging. “Do you miss me?” His voice echoed unnaturally through the graveyard; Minho shivered._

_“I hardly remember you.” Minho tried to snap but it came out weak._

_His dad started walking towards him and Minho tried to step backwards away, but he was frozen in place._

_“But you think about me a lot, don’t you?”_

_His father’s voice got louder and louder until it was so loud it felt like it was coming from inside his head._

_Minho squeezed his eyes shut._

_“Do you still think it was me behind the wheel?” His dad’s voice echoed in his head. The dream became foggy around the edges as Minho started to pull himself out of his sleep._   
_The voice was so warm and caring, but his words were bitter and cold. The disguised evilness, rung with the same sharpness as the devil's smile Minho wore._   
_“I know you say you don’t but every time you remember his face becomes more and more like mine? You thought it was me so badly your memory has been altered?”_

_The car came around the corner too quick, skipping stoplights and clipping the curb._

_Everything happened so quick. The screams, his mum using her entire weight to turn the car, the impact, the airbags not going off, the broken glass slicing his shoulder._

_Everything happened so fast until it happened in slow motion._

_The car screeched to a halt, spinning in the middle of the road. He looked up, pulling the glass out with his left hand. His mum's body limp in the driver’s seat, crushed where the impact had hit._

_He looked up and made eye contact with the driver, the man who ruined Minho’s life in a matter of seconds. The man who in all his memories wore his father’s face._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Considering this is a Minsung story there has been very limited contact between the two. I don't think they've even had a conversation yet. I promise it's coming, as is Jeongin. These things just take they're time. 
> 
> I'm trying to make Minho's mindset as realistic as possible, but its kinda hard. I've never lost someone close to me but this is how I imagine the pain to feel. Sorry Minho, I love you baby.
> 
> Thanks for reading xx


	9. Chapter 9 (I’m always hurting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, I'm back with more pain for Minho.  
> Please pretend that the school system, scholar ship and timeline makes sense. I live in Australia and our school year starts in January but then our seasons are opposite too.  
> I'm pretty sure this is set in Korea, but its probably gonna have inconsistencies because I'm too lazy to do extensive research. 
> 
> Anyway here you go, hardly any of this was supposed to be in this chapter, but oh well. Look at me pretending I have a plan.

Minho returned to school on Thursday with bloody knuckles and scratches all over his body. Dark circles surrounded his eyes, red marks down his face as if he’d tried to claw his own eyes out.

He looked like a fighter. He looked like he’d lost. 

He looked haunted.

Minho looked like he’d seen horrors the rest of the world could only imagine. He looked like he had faced death in the face and had known what to expect. 

He looked like someone with nothing to lose because life had already taken it all. 

He looked broken.

With his return a new wave of rumours resurfaced. 

“He got into a huge fight.”

“I heard he was arrested, don’t tell anyone though.”

“Didn’t you hear, it was the anniversary of his Mums death.”

“No, someone told me his girlfriend broke up with him, something about abuse.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Minho became the talk of the school, and no one was saying anything good. 

“Can’t they mind their own business?” Jisung muttered to Seungmin at lunch when a table of girls was gossiping loudly enough for Jisung to hear. 

“I didn’t think you liked Minho enough to care,” Seungmin said unbothered. He opened his mouth for Jisung to feed him. 

“I don’t care about him.” He popped a piece of his lunch into Seungmin’s mouth. “He hates me, remember.” As if they needed reminding. “I just don’t want to hear about him every five minutes.”

Seungmin mumbled something indistinguishable through a mouth full of food. He didn’t seem too bothered about making himself clear and just kept eating once finishing. 

Jisung huffed and pulled his hood up over his ears. He could still hear the girls talking and if he was braver, he might have told them to shut up.

Jisung didn’t know how Minho dealt with it. He kept his head down and his mouth shut. He let the people talk and never said a thing in defence. The rumours got wild and none of them painted a good picture of him, yet Minho kept going about his daily life like this was normal. Jisung realised it probably was. 

Of course, it wasn’t all peaceful, harmful words. There were always those ‘good’ boys with rich parents who thought that they were better than everyone and Minho was the dirt on the floor. They were the poster boys of the school, driving expensive cars and grinning with pearly white teeth, they were the sort of boys who could get away with anything. 

And they hated Minho. 

Jisung didn’t understand why they thought they were so much better than Minho. He had heard them talking loudly in the corridors about Minho using drugs when he passed them, and he knew Minho had heard them too. 

He didn’t know why they thought they were better than him when he had seen them smoking behind the gym on multiple occasions. 

He supposed it was some sort of privilege that came with money because when they got into fights, it was all ‘boys will be boys’, whereas when Minho got into fights it was because he was dangerous, had no future and was going to end up in prison.

Jisung thought they were just as bad as each other. At least Minho didn’t get away with the trouble he caused, at least he didn’t hide behind his parent’s money. 

Three days after Minho returned, these boys, the pride of the school, cornered Minho behind the arts building as he was leaving the dance studios. Jisung didn’t mean to see, but he was also leaving school late after spending most of the afternoon with Chan editing a track, but he did see, and he saw Minho exactly as everyone guessed he would be. 

He has seen them approach the building and knew that leaving as fast as possible was the best idea, but curiosity got the best of him and he ended up crouched behind the corner watching them approach Minho. 

It was three to one, and they were all a lot more built than Minho from the sports they played, but Minho was crazy. 

“You’re disgusting, you know, that right?” Jisung peaked around the corner and saw one of the boys pushing Minho’s shoulder backwards. 

Minho didn’t seem bothered by the contact. 

“Why? Because I don’t have a shit ton of money instead of a personality?” Minho’s mouth curled into a cruel smile. 

One of the boys opened his mouth to reply but Minho interrupted him. 

“You think dad’s money makes you invincible?” His voice dripped with venom, words clipped and vicious. Jisung shivered and thought that maybe he wasn’t what Minho hated the most. 

“You little shit,” The one with the Rolex watch spat. “We can beat you up you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Minho laughed, and it was potentially the most chilling sound Jisung had ever heard.

“You can beat me until I can’t walk, but pain doesn’t mean much to me anymore.” He pointed to the cuts on his arms, neck and face. 

“I’ve been looking for a fight and trust me even if you’re the ones to walk away from this, the bruises on your faces will seem a whole lot darker than the ones on mine.”

The one who had pushed Minho originally scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense. There’s three of us and one of you, we can make you wish you were never born.”

“You see that’s where you’re wrong.” Minho examined his hands, the damage barely healed. “I’m not afraid of the pain anymore. Do what you want, but you’ll still end up hurting more than I ever could.” 

He looked up and made direct eye contact with Jisung. Jisung’s heart stopped. Minho looked away again before the boys followed his gaze. 

Jisung dove out of their line of sight, back pressed against the brick his eyes squeezed shut. 

He regretted every decision that had led to this point. 

He regretted now knowing the sound Minho made when he was punched in the stomach and he hated that it made Minho laugh. 

“You don’t get it,” Minho screamed out, laughing as the boys attacked and he attacked back. “No matter how much you bruise me you will never walk away feeling like you’ve won.”

He regretted watching the boys leave, limping and bleeding, but walking away as if they’d won. 

He regretted leaving too, Minho still lying on the ground behind the arts building, still laughing.

Maybe if he wasn’t such a coward, he would have helped Minho up, bandaged his cuts. 

Jisung regretted being too afraid to do anything, he walked away leaving Minho laughing in a growing pool of his own blood.

Jisung had begun to regret a lot lately. 

Chan looked incredibly upset the next morning when Minho came to school with black eyes and a new set of war wounds. 

“What the fuck Minho!” He said after pulling Minho aside before the first classes. “You told me you weren’t getting into any more fights now.”

“Well, I lied,” Minho said casually, crossing his arms.

“They’re gonna take your scholarship away if you keep this up.” Chan rubbed his temple. “I don’t want to see you go Minho.”

“What?” Minho said unbothered. “and admit that their perfect poster boys are all just as bad?” Minho knew the school would never look into his fights; they didn’t care as long as he looked like the looser. 

“Minho,” Chan said more softly, trying a new angle. “Don’t you hear what people say about you?”

“People have always talked about me Chan.” Minho didn’t feel bad about talking harshly. “When everybody’s already made up their mind about you, there’s no point trying to pretend to be anyone else.”

“I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Chan had tears in his eyes, for a second Minho resented him for caring so much. 

“I’m always hurting Chan.”

Chan opened his mouth and closed it again. 

Minho left for class without another word. Chan didn’t realise how dark the world could be. 

The day was strangely quiet compared to how the rest of the week had been. Instead of talking about him, everyone politely ignored him, pretending that he wasn’t there with his bleeding lip and kicked in ribs. 

Minho was happy not to be seen. One day the rumours would come back, probably sooner rather than later, but for now, he was happy to be the subject that everyone ignored. 

Maybe it was too hard to villainise a boy who looked like he had been beaten within an inch of his life because Minho knew he looked awful. He looked like he had lost, but seeing the rich kids try and hide their injuries, wearing long sleeves, masks and glasses, trying to disguise a limp as they walked, Minho felt like he had won. 

He wore his injuries proudly, because they didn’t hurt him, and he knew it bothered people who thought they had won to see him smirking like they were the looser. 

Even the teachers ignored him. He guessed they knew it was their golden boys who had done this to him, or they just didn’t care. Minho was just a delinquent to them, maybe they were happy to see him so hurt. 

Even his dance teacher didn’t say anything as he struggled through warmups. He thought she liked him. Maybe she did and that was the problem. He knew his scholarship was a delicate thing. He knew it was something that shouldn’t be risked. His whole future relied on it and he had to study hard and dance well to keep it. 

If she reported a fight, he would easily lose it, so maybe that’s why she ignored it. He was her best dancer, after all, it would be a shame to lose him. 

He assumed she also knew that the scholarship was provided by his dance school and losing it would also kick him out of that.

Maybe she could see a bright future for him and that’s why she pretended he wasn’t struggling to breathe while holding the plank. 

“Are you sure you’re up to this Hyung?” Felix asked, gently touching his shoulder, almost as if he expected him to collapse under the touch.

“Of course.” When had he become Hyung?

These two boys were becoming dangerously close to friends. 

By the end of dance Minho was ready to go home. He was tired of pretending everything didn’t hurt. He parted ways with Felix and Hyunjin who looked at him worriedly but let him leave without saying anything. 

He considered skipping maths, but he already had missed so much in the days around the anniversary that it was probably not a good idea.

He was supposed to be good at maths anyway.

He wished he had decided to skip because if he had he wouldn’t have bumped into Han. Han who he hated. Han who held the door open for him. 

Han who had been there at the fight.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as Minho passed. Minho stopped walking. 

Jisung was staring at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, a look that Minho had seen directed at him a lot, but not one he ever got used to.

“Don’t be.” He snapped back. It wasn’t words of comfort. Han didn’t deserve to feel guilty. He shouldn’t have been there to see in the first place.

“I should have helped you,” Jisung whispered shamefully again.

Minho didn’t reply. He walked through the door and wished Han Jisung wasn’t part of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter so far.  
> It was going to be like twice as long but I split it because I think it flowed nicer that way. Also I'm sorry that my chapters are so short, I just write in a very choppy way and starting new chapters helps it make more sense. At least I think so.
> 
> Also Minsung had they're first conversation, even if it was very short. 
> 
> Also the dialog between the rich kids and Minho was so awkward and cringy, but oh well.


	10. Chapter 10 (He couldn’t bring himself to hate someone who seemed so broken)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason it's so much easier to write from Jisung's point of view. I hope this chapter is kind of interesting, its the longest one yet i think and it feels like nothing happens.

Jisung walked into the shop behind Felix and Hyunjin, which was funny considering he knew the older boys better. Seungmin followed closely behind him nervously and for a moment Jisung considered taking his hand.

He didn’t because Seungmin probably wouldn’t appreciate it, and because with Minho around Jisung didn’t feel like he could be himself.

He didn’t feel like he should know Minho, it felt like they were supposed to remain as strangers, to stay out of each other’s lives, yet Chan had caught them and woven into his interconnecting web to the point where they couldn’t escape each other. 

Felix led them in and asked the waitress for the table number. She giggled when Felix told her it was under Chan’s name. 

“My co-worker can lead you there.” She said gesturing for another slightly older girl to come over. 

The other waitress blushed when she was told which table they were supposed to be going to. 

“Um, this way guys.”

Jisung rolled his eyes when they were only led around the corner, to a table they could have easily found themselves. 

“Here you go.” The waitress said her blush deepening. 

Hyunjin thanked her but Jisung had stopped paying attention. Minho wasn’t looking at them, but Jisung could still see the bruises, a sickening yellow colour spread under his skin like mould. 

It had been a week since the fight since Jisung had whispered his apology. Minho was always exactly as he had been but Jisung couldn’t help but see him differently. He had always known that Minho had gotten into fights, sought them out even, enjoyed them, but it was scary seeing how much Minho relished the pain. Jisung didn’t want to know what sort of things Minho had seen to make him that sick in the head. 

The waitress left them and Chan stood up to greet them. 

Jisung fist-bumped them both and introduced his friends to the table. Seungmin was standing unusually close to Jisung, folding into himself, trying to disappear. Minho finally looked up at them and Jisung knew exactly how he felt.

“This is Chan, Changbin and...” He paused when he arrived at Minho’s name. Everyone was looking at him and his brain was running in circles trying to decide if saying or not saying his name was less obvious. 

Chan saved him. “That’s Minho, he might look scary but he’s really not.” 

Jisung would beg to differ but he didn’t say anything. Seungmin smiled shyly around the table and sat down next to Felix who had already sat down on Minho’s right. Hyunjin collapsed in the seat on Minho’s other side. It had previously been occupied by Chan but Jisung knew that he would let Hyunjin take it.

Minho glared at him as he hesitantly sat down between Changbin and Chan. Both the older boys were re-introducing themselves more personally to his friends. He felt trapped between them. Seungmin looked incredibly uncomfortable with the attention on him. Jisung didn’t talk just let everyone else. 

“I told you she had a crush on you Hyung!” Changbin said loudly, slapping the table.

“I’m sure she’s usually like that,” Chan said dismissively, but he was smiling slightly. 

They all looked back at the pair of waitresses who were whispering to each other behind the counter, stealing glances in their direction every now and then. 

That explained a lot about her behaviour. 

Jisung’s friends fit well into the group. They conversed easily as if they were always supposed to be there. Hyunjin and Seungmin had both joined Changbin with teasing Chan, even if they’d only just met. Felix who had always been a bit shyer when meeting strangers sat back and listened, but still, he laughed along with the jokes comfortably.

Only Jisung and Minho weren’t joining in the conversation. Minho’s eyes were trained to Jisung, his glare cutting deep into Jisung. He would have glared back but he couldn’t find it in him to hate Minho today. He had seen Minho in his most vulnerable and raw state, he couldn’t bring himself to hate someone who seemed so broken. He pitied Minho, he feared Minho, he couldn’t return Minho’s hate.

The shop was loud, and Minho’s unwavering hate was overwhelming. Jisung could feel his heart rate increasing and his breathing becoming shallow, Chan was watching him with concern painted all over his face.

“Excuse me.” He got up from the table, his chair squealing loudly against the vinyl floor as he pushed it backwards. 

When the world was too much Jisung ran. He wanted to escape this lunch, this dinner, Minho so, so bad, but with Chan’s gaze following him he walked to the bathroom and locked himself in. Jisung curled up in a ball in the corner of one of the stalls, sitting on the floor, face buried in the fabric of his pink hoodie. 

Breathe,

Breathe.

Minho didn’t know why Jisung leaving bothered him so much. He had been staring at the younger boy for the entirety of this ‘lunch between friends’ wishing for his absence, yet when it was granted, he felt empty. Maybe it was to do with his hate having caused it.

He wanted the boy who had reciprocated his hate back. He wanted the boy who had met his glares to walk out that bathroom, not the boy who was scared who had entered. 

Jisung was too innocent.

His wide-eyed stares reflected everything dark in Minho’s life and Minho hated being reminded.

Jisung looked at the world like he was looking for the darkness hidden behind the corner, scared and afraid, always searching, waiting for the darkness to take over his life. Maybe Minho was the evil Jisung had expected to find.

Minho believed the world was the darkness, and the happiness was the light shining through unexpecting gaps. Minho didn’t necessarily think that the world was a bad place, he just knew happiness was rare and precious against the loneliness and pain that life was. 

Jisung looked at Minho, with his bruises and bad experiences like he was the contrasting dark shadow against the perfect world.

Maybe he was.

Looking at Jisung was a reminder of everything wrong in Minho’s life. 

He didn’t need Jisung to remember that his life was fucked up.

He didn’t need Jisung’s pity or his fear.

He didn’t need to lie, bleeding on the pavement behind the arts building, struggling to stay conscious, unable to move because Jisung was around the corner. 

He didn’t need Jisung to apologise for leaving him there, he shouldn’t have been there in the first place. 

Seungmin, the new friend Minho hadn’t met, smiled at him and Minho froze. 

He didn’t need this lunch, not in the slightest.

Jisung came out of the bathroom after a suspiciously long time. His eyes were pink, and his cheeks felt unusually hot. 

Chan and Hyunjin both immediately picked up that something wasn’t right with him, they both made eye contact with each other as Jisung returned to his seat, uncomfortable with their eyes following him. If anyone else had noticed his state, they didn’t react to it. Jisung was glad to avoid the spotlight.

Minho, who had been talking with Seungmin returned his gaze to Jisung. He might have been surprised to see Seungmin talking with Minho, except Seungmin was far too friendly not to. Jisung wanted to disappear under his gaze.

He wanted to run.

Yet he insisted he was fine when Chan gently pulled him aside to ask, under the excuse of getting napkins. 

“You worry too much Chan” His laugh sounded fake “I already have parents; you don’t need to take their job.” 

Chan laughed but behind his eyes, Jisung could see the growing concern. At the table, Minho laughed and Jisung visibly flinched. Chan handed him the pile of napkins as he carefully counted out eight sets of chopsticks. 

“You don’t actually hate him, do you?” He asked casually, examining the wooden implements for imperfections. 

Jisung scoffed. “Of course I do, I think he would murder me if it wasn’t illegal.”

Chan didn’t laugh this time. Instead, he straightened up and turned to look directly at Jisung. 

“Jisung, you need to be honest, not with us but with yourself. You’re lying to yourself, so you don’t realise when you’re lying to everyone else. You don’t hate Minho and I don’t believe you ever have. You tell yourself you do because it’s easier than admitting that he will never like you back.” Chan went back to picking the chopsticks. 

Jisung didn’t know how to reply. “I..I, I don’t like him!”

Chan waved his hand dismissively. “Not like that. You want him to want to be your friend.” He paused to let Jisung speak but he didn’t say anything, so he continued. “You can tell me I’m wrong, just admit the truth to yourself. I know you would rather he liked you.”

He handed the pile of chopsticks to Jisung and grabbed two water jugs from the bench. The waitress from before behind the counter was watching him while refilling the chips packets on the shelf. She was stacking them incredibly slowly and was using the extra time to admire Chan out the corner of her eyes. Chan glanced up at her and smiled charmingly. The girl blushed softly and looked down at her feet. Jisung rolled his eyes. 

“As for Minho, I think he only hates you because he’s too stubborn to admit that his first impression of you was wrong.” The girl was trying to catch Chan’s eye again. 

“Did we already have glasses, or do we need more?” Chan asked thoughtfully eyeing the stacks of cups on the table next to the jugs. 

Jisung couldn’t remember and looked back at the table. A glass sat beside each plate but Jisung wasn’t looking at them. Seungmin was standing behind Minho, twisting his hair into some sort of braid. Braiding was a skill that they all knew Seungmin had, Jisung himself having had his hair done by him multiple times, but no one knew why and Seungmin refused to tell them.

But Minho was smiling and laughing. He looked happy, young and innocent, to Jisung he looked like a completely different person. Minho looked up and saw Jisung watching him. His smile faded and immediately turned into a glare. 

“They already have glasses.” He told Chan quietly, everting his eyes from the table. He hated that he was the only one Minho consistently hated. Minho was cold and uninterested towards strangers and people he didn’t know, but as far as he was aware, he was the only one that Minho hated.

“Minho’s not a bad person Jisung,” Chan stopped him from walking back. “He’s been through a lot. Someone doesn’t see the things he has and come out a perfect person.” He sighed and handed the chopsticks to Jisung.

“The world hasn’t been kind to Minho, he’s not kind back.”

Minho’s glare followed him all the way back to the table and traced him around as he handed out the chopsticks and napkins. Jisung hesitated when he reached Minho’s seat, but he saw Chan smiling knowingly. His hand brushed the side of Minho’s arm as he basically slammed the implements down. Jisung flinched with the touch, and Minho’s entire body tensed. He reminded Jisung of a loaded mousetrap and immediately moved away in fear of stepping on the pin and setting it off. Minho’s eyes no longer followed him and Jisung was glad that the weight of his watch was lifted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the Chapters are going to be longer and quicker to be updated now because I've reached the point where I already have quite a lot of it written.


	11. Chapter 11 (This was his perfect world)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has really mostly become from Jisung's point of view. I'll still swap into Minho's but I'm not going to try to keep them even anymore. It will just be written from who ever it fits more.

“Why does he like _you_?” Jisung whined. They had gone to Seungmin's house after leaving the restaurant. They had been there most of the afternoon and the sunset not long after they arrived back at Seungmin’s.

Seungmin just shrugged smirking.

“I’m likeable”

Jisung ignored his comment and continued. Speaking through a mouthful of leftover food from Seungmin’s parents’ shop.

“See I get that he likes you two.” He gestured vaguely in Felix and Hyunjin’s direction. “You dance with him. But he just met you. He knows me better than you!”

“That’s probably why” Felix added. Jisung ignored him too, when had this become bully Jisung day?

“And you _all_ like him!”

“Jealous?” Seungmin asked. Jisung didn’t respond because the answer was yes.

He was jealous. Chan was right, not that he would ever admit it. Jisung wanted nothing more than for Minho to like him. He wanted to fit into the group as easily as his friends had.

“Does it actually bother you that much?” Felix asked, his deep voice soft and concerned. The tone of the conversation had changed.

Jisung pouted and crossed his arms. An action that could have meant yes, but was more likely to mean no.

He didn’t like lying to his friends. _If he didn’t say anything was it lying?_

“Nah he hates Minho just as much as Hyung hates him,” Hyunjin said poking Jisung in the ribs.

“Since when do you call him Hyung!” Jisung asked Hyunjin, poking him back.

Hyunjin laughed and grabbed him around the waist wrestling him to the floor. Jisung squealed as Hyunjin attacked him, tickling and poking all over.

“Stopppp! Stop! Hyunjin I can’t breathe!” Jisung cried, tears in the corner of his eyes. Hyunjin was breathless with laughter too and collapsed on top of him. They lay there for a second giggling to themselves. Felix and Seungmin both watched them amused.

Jisung was so comfortable like this. This was his perfect world, the four of them and the openness of the world. It was almost worth dealing with Minho for.

Jisung sighed happily and Hyunjin squirmed crushing his lungs.

“Ow Hyunjin!” Jisung exclaimed but neither of them moved.

Felix had moved to wrap his legs around Seungmin’s waist from behind. Seungmin whined in complaint but leaned back into Felix anyway.

Once again, they fell into a comfortable silence, until Seungmin cleared his throat.

“Jisung, I know that you say that us being friends with Minho doesn’t bother you, but are you sure you’re okay with it?” Seungmin paused to let Jisung speak.

“Of course, I’m okay with it. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, just know that if he ever does something to hurt you, we will always be on your side.” Seungmin reached out and squeezed Jisung’s hand, Jisung squeezed his hand in return.

“I know.”

Hyunjin’s phone buzzed and he rolled off Jisung too answer it. They were all quite waiting for him to tell them who it was.

“It’s Minho,” he told Felix. Seungmin laughed at the dramatic sigh Jisung let out. He had thought they had finished talking about Minho. Felix and Hyunjin both ignored him.

“He wants us to choose the music.”

“oh.”

“Yeah, he says that he hasn’t found anything special in while and wants to see if we had any ideas.” They both fell silent.

Jisung had pulled out his own phone, pretending that he wasn’t listening. He was very interested in what was going down, but the others didn’t need to know that. He had already made them think he cared more about Minho than he did.

He slept at Seungmin’s that night, wedged between Felix and the wall.

He dreamt of Minho dancing. He dreamt that Minho didn’t hate him. He didn’t remember the dream when he woke up.

Felix and Hyunjin talked about finding the music for Minho nonstop for the next week. Jisung had quickly gotten bored of the subject and Seungmin hadn’t ever been interested, so they had their own conversations. Jisung had learned more about baseball in the past week than ever before.

Today was no different. He sat at the lunch table pushing his food around aimlessly on his plate. Seungmin was trying to explain a gameplay tactic using his lunch box to demonstrate the player's movement. Jisung wasn’t really listening only nodding and commenting occasionally when he felt like he had been quiet for too long. Seungmin had been so excited when Jisung had shown a slight interest in the game, and he kind of felt bad that he was just pretending to care. He really had tried to have interest, he just didn’t.

Felix and Hyunjin were listening to music off Felix’s phone, an earbud each. Hyunjin had a list of songs on paper and after each one he would scribble an option out. Occasionally they would hand over the headphones to either Seungmin or Jisung to ask their opinion. It didn’t matter what they said though, as every time Hyunjin would still cross it out.

“It doesn’t have what we’re looking for.”

Jisung didn’t think they knew what they were looking for, and if they did the song probably didn’t exist.

“Why can’t you just choose a song?” Jisung whined interrupting Seungmin’s speech on pitching speeds. They didn’t answer, but they didn’t need to. Jisung had asked this question enough times in the past week to know what the answer.

They wanted to impress him, and that was fair. If Jisung were them, he wouldn’t want to get on Minho’s bad side. Jisung lived on it and knew exactly why they wouldn’t want to.

He sighed and rested his chin on his hand. He waited for Seungmin to continue about baseball, but he was looking at something behind Jisung’s head. Jisung turned around to see what he was watching.

Chan was walking over to them holding his open laptop in one hand and his lunch tray in the other. He didn’t drop either of them, which was surprising and sat down in the empty space next to Jisung. The whole table was watching as he pulled out a pair of headphones from his bag. He placed them and the laptop in front of Jisung and greeted the table.

“Hi” He greeted Felix separately and in English. Jisung was glad they were becoming friends. Chan was a good guy and it would be nice for Felix to have someone to speak in English to. Jisung often felt bad that he couldn’t. They all did. Seungmin had put in a lot of effort into learning English but the conversations they had were clunky and frustrating. Felix smiled gratefully and said something in English Jisung didn’t understand.

He looked at the screen that Chan had placed in front of him. The sound file for _I see_ was open.

“I had a look like you asked,” Chan said drawing the table's attention to the laptop. “Nothing much needed changing, I just fiddled about with the volume of sections.” He smiled. “I don’t think you’ll notice much of a difference.”

“Jisung?”

Jisung hummed as a response not meeting Felix’s gaze.

“You didn’t tell us that you were working on a song.”

Jisung squeaked as all three of them flung themselves across the table to grab the laptop. Chan laughed as they tried to listen to it with a pair of headphones between the three. With the rough way they had handled the computer, Jisung thought Chan should be more concerned with his property.

Chan reached into his pocket and pulled out a USB with a bee sticker on the side. He gave it to Jisung and wandered over to the other side of the table to get the laptop back. Jisung put the USB straight into his bag not trusting himself not to lose it.

The three rounded on him. Chan had left, leaving him to face them alone.

“Hi,” he said nervously.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Seungmin asked at the same time Hyunjin asked,

“Can we have it?”

“What?”

They both repeated their questions at the same time.

“This is perfect,” Felix said.

Jisung wouldn’t say it was perfect. He was proud of it, but it was nowhere near perfect. Chan couldn’t have improved it that much.

“It’s exactly what we need!” Hyunjin continued.

Jisung was starting to understand what they were asking.

“Please Hyung” Felix only ever used honorifics with Jisung when he wanted something. He was looking at him with puppy eyes. Luckily for Jisung, he was immune, well as immune as you could be.

Usually, he would have said yes already, but this time was different. If he let them use it for their dance Minho would listen to it. Minho would dance to it... Minho would hate it.

“As soon as he finds out its mine, he will say no.” They all knew who he was referring to.

“We just won’t tell him.”

Jisung already knew that this was a bad idea.

“Are you sure this is the one you want.”

“Yes, it fits Minho’s dancing perfectly.”

He sighed “Okay”

_He was sure Minho was going to hate it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holidays have finished and today was my first day of proper online classes and it sucked. How do any of you stay motivated?  
> I have a new math investigation on vectors and it is so complicated, I really don't want to do it.


	12. Chapter 12 (I see)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this written since December last year, and have just been waiting to get to this point in the plot. It kinda feels clunky with the plot so far but oh well.  
> I'm not a dancer of a musician so I really don't know how well I See would work as a dance song, but we can use our imaginations.

Chan was right, the changes he had made on _I See_ were hardly noticeable, they just made everything sound more together. Still, Jisung fiddled with it. He didn’t ever save any of his changes. He was more nervous than he would like to admit. Minho hearing his song, especially _I See_ which was very much his song, it made his legs fell like jelly and his heart seemed to live in his throat.

Felix wanted the song by Wednesday which was their next dance practice. In the end, Jisung gave up and just sent him the link. Immediately he had regretted it, but they had already told Minho that they had found a song and he wasn’t going to throw his friends under the bus like that.

_He didn’t want Minho to hate them too._

Jisung followed Hyunjin and Felix down to dance after school on Wednesday. They all walked in silence. Jisung really didn’t need to be there, Felix and Hyunjin both had the song downloaded, but he was too nervous not to. The dance rooms were in the art wing close enough to the music rooms that Jisung could use them as an excuse for coming. He probably should go anyway. Chan had asked for him to do a vocal back up on a track for him and he hadn’t recorded it yet.

He followed them into the studio. He had been here often enough, but he never felt at home. This was Felix and Hyunjin’s area, the recording booth was his.

The other two dropped their bags to the side. Jisung kept his on. He looked around while they connected Felix’s phone to the speaker.

“Do you still have the song?” He spoke mainly to fill the silence.

“No,” said Hyunjin sarcastically “I deleted it.” But he double-checked anyway. His hand played with the pocket of his track pants and Jisung realised that they might have been just as nervous as him.

In the reflection of the mirror, Jisung saw Minho approaching the studio. He looked away quickly in case Minho also saw him. He was fiddling with his hands, a nervous habit that seemed only to appear when Minho was involved.

He turned to Felix and Hyunjin who had already started stretching on the wooden floor. They were chatting casually but Jisung didn’t hesitate to interrupt. They were used to his boyish rudeness and wouldn’t dislike him for it.

“I’m sorry guys, I have to... I’ve... I’m gonna go.” Jisung dropped his hands to his sides, then moved them into his pockets, then back out again. “Just tell me if anything in the music needs changing.” They looked concerned at his stuttering. Jisung usually had too many words, never not enough.

The door clicked open drawing their attention. Minho was now standing in the entrance.

Felix breathed out a regretful sigh of understanding. One that very clearly meant that he knew what was going to happen, he didn’t like it, but he wasn’t going to stop it. This was Jisung and Minho’s issue and it wasn’t their job to intervene.

Minho was looking at Jisung, managing to glare at him while also raising his eyebrows in disgust. It was a humiliating and intimidating expression that only Minho managed to pull off.

Jisung left with a hurried goodbye. His shoulder caught Minho’s on the way out, he still hadn’t moved from the doorway. Jisung didn’t look back until the door had slammed shut behind him. He breathed in deeply. Every interaction with Minho left him feeling like he had just narrowly escaped a near-death experience.

He sunk to the floor, back against the wall. On the other side of the door, he could hear Minho greeting the other boys. Minho sounded so different when Jisung wasn’t around. He sounded soft and caring, playful almost. Jisung wished his presence didn’t change the older boy as much as it did.

He sighed and buried his head in his hands. The voices from the studio became muffled as the boys moved further away from the door. Jisung dropped his hand to absentmindedly traced the letters of Minho’s name on the vinyl floor, deep in thought.

Jisung didn’t know why he was so fixated on Minho. He had invaded every corner of Jisung’s brain and Jisung found himself thinking about Minho more and more as their lives became increasingly intertwined. Yet still that wall of hate remained and Jisung remained intensely curious on discovering what lay hidden from him on the other side of the brick.

The slightly muffled sound of his own voice pulled him out of his thoughts. The boys were playing Minho _I See_. The repetitive drum bass travelled easily through the walls compared to the rest of the music. Each beat of the song was burned into Jisung’s brain.

Every song Jisung made was like a part of him, a piece of his soul separated from his body. This one was no different and it made him nervous. This piece of Jisung was completely unprotected, out in the open and vulnerable to Minho’s harsh opinions and criticism.

He edged closer to the door and peered through the little sliver of decorative glass that ran down the side. The music was significantly louder here. Minho had joined Felix and Hyunjin stretching on the floor and his face was clearly visible from where Jisung sat.

He was smiling. Carefree and easy. Casual joy. Jisung supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that Minho could display such emotions. But it was odd seeing a face so often furrowed in dislike, look... happy. What was even more jarring was how familiar it looked to the others. Jisung felt like he had finally removed one of the bricks in the wall and was glimpsing the world on the other side.

“It’s good”

Jisung only just heard Minho’s voice and his heart skipped a beat. Minho had complimented Jisung’s song. He supposed that Minho didn’t actually know that it was his yet. His toes felt tingly. It didn’t matter if Minho said he didn’t like it once he found out, Jisung knew that he had once said _it’s good_. Jisung realised that it was him, or his work that had made Minho smile.

Through the door, Minho threw back his head and laughed happily. Jisung watched slightly transfixed by this newly revealed side of the older boy. His heart was beating unusually fast and he didn’t like it.

Minho’s head rolled in a stretch angling his face towards the door. Jisung ducked down underneath the window and out the path of Minho’s gaze. He sat there frozen. He could feel his heart beating in his throat. Jisung felt like he was going to throw up, or maybe he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Maybe both.

The song ended and the sound of the boys’ movement behind the door became more prevalent in the hallway. This change in sound shocked Jisung into movement again. He rushed down the hall, Minho’s smiling face burned into his eyes. Now he was walking away from it he wished that he had never seen it.  
Because seeing Minho smile at his song, at the extension of him... It was beautiful and something Jisung longed for. And now he had seen it and Minho still hated him.

Jisung craved Minho’s approval, friendship, love more than anything. It was like a drug, and this little taste left him high in it, yet he could already feel the awful withdrawal pains because Jisung could have none of that.

Tomorrow he would return to school, and he and Minho would hate each other. Minho would assume Jisung had never seen him smile and Jisung would pretend he hadn’t. When had hating Minho become so complicated?

Maybe it had always been this way and Jisung had only just noticed.

When Hyunjin had told him that they had found the perfect song for their dance routine, Minho had been thrilled. Wednesday finally rolled around and he was in a good mood. It lasted most of the day until the afternoon when he had maths.

Each second in the stuffy classroom dragged on as he attempted to understand the problems. Just because he didn’t like it didn’t mean that he was going to give up on trying. That’s probably what made him hate it even more, no matter how much work he did, he still didn’t understand. Yet he was to stubborn just to quit. Each time he got something wrong he just reminded himself that next he had dance, took a deep breath, and continued.

When the bell went his mood soured, he hadn’t managed to get his problem right. Maybe if he’d asked for help, he might have been able to get it, but Minho was too embarrassed and stubborn for that. The only person he ever went to for help was Chan and his cats. Chan hadn’t been in his maths class this year (he was much too smart to be in the same one as Minho) and his cats were certainly no help when it came to explaining quadratics.

He moved through the school not caring if he bumped into students, only caring if they bumped into him. When he reached the familiar arts department, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. The arts department, specifically their tiny dance studio was only place Minho felt like he entirely belonged. Belonged by himself.

Chan belonged everywhere and Minho felt like people and places only excepted him because Chan was there with him. Sometimes he wondered if he was actually his own person or just an extension of his friends. Only in the dance studio did he feel like a complete being.

His mood dropped to the floor when he arrived at the studio door and saw Han Jisung through the glass. Jisung had also seen him and had quickly turned away face panicked. Why did he have to be here tainting his place? It was bad enough that Hyunjin and Felix were friends with him, meaning that his name was dropped occasionally in casual conversation.

Jisung being here in person was so much worse like even if he left his image would remain reflected in the mirror. God Minho hoped that he was leaving. He couldn’t stand it if he stayed.

Finally, Minho opened the door and stepped into the room. They all looked over and Felix sighed slightly. Minho didn’t like what the sigh implied so he glared at Jisung instead. Jisung muttered a quiet goodbye to his friends and forced his way past Minho in the doorway, catching his shoulder on his own on the way out.

Minho was so very relieved to see him go. He released the final endings of his bad mood out by slamming the door. Now that Jisung had left the studio had become his safe place again. It was impossible for him to stay grumpy here.

He greeted the other boys with a fist bump. They looked troubled. No doubt due to the exchange that he just had with Jisung. He couldn’t understand why their friends couldn’t just except that they hated each other. Disliking it wasn’t going to change anything.

Which was a lie because every time one of them looked like this Minho felt guilty. They had made hating Jisung a more shameful act than it had been before.

He joined the others on the floor stretching. Hyunjin filled the silence talking about some event that happened in his English class. Minho wasn’t really listening only humming and nodding when Hyunjin tone suggested he did so. Finally, Felix spoke up interrupting his story. Hyunjin didn’t seem bothered making Minho think that maybe he had just been speaking to avoid silence.

“We got the song. It’s nothing like anything anyone else will have.” They both smiled at him nervously and Felix played the song.

The sound of someone texting played over the speaker. Already he was interested. The song sounded desperate, sad and hopeful. Finally, inspiration flowed. Each beat of the music brought new ideas into his head. After so long the drought had broken. He was back in his element and it felt good.

For the first time in what felt like days, his face split into a smile. A proper smile that he couldn’t control or hide.

“It’s good”

 _It’s perfect_ he added but just to himself.

It wasn’t a song he would usually pick to dance to. It wasn’t the obvious choice but now it had been presented Minho couldn’t imagine picking out anything else.

The other boys looked relieved that he thought so. It was clear that they had been nervous for his judgment. Without any of them specifying this task had sort of become a test and they had passed. He let out an easy laugh. His day had improved greatly.

The song finished. The feeling of familiarity had grown on Minho throughout. Maybe he had heard a song from this artist before. Their voice sounded familiar.

There was a moment of silence as each of the dancers became lost in their own ideas.

“I’m glad you like it.” Hyunjin finally said. “Jisung was worried that you wouldn’t.”

Minho’s head snapped up to look at him. Why was Jisung afraid he wouldn’t like it? Why did he care about Minho’s opinion?

Hyunjin seemed to think he had made a mistake in speaking and slapped his hand over his mouth. Felix sighed again.

Minho grabbed Felix’s phone and replayed the song. The file was named I See but the artist wasn’t listed. The texting sound once again filled the room. It was soothing somehow.

Felix tried moving about to the soft beat, freestyling. This emotional type wasn’t his preference when it came to dance. It was closer to Hyunjin’s, but it was Minho’s. They had chosen this song for him and he was thankful for it.

He stood up. His body rolled with the music. He didn’t control his muscles he just let the flow.

Hyunjin set up his phone to film. It was a trick they had been taught earlier in the year; they play the song over a few times and film themselves freestyling, then watch it back when they were short on ideas. At first, they had been self-conscious, but once they got comfortable, they had found a lot of useful choreography.

Minho shut his eyes and just moved. The beat controlled his movement, he was just a spectator admiring the result. Last time he had tried this he had danced straight into the mirrors resulting in a concussion. He hadn’t attempted it since, but he was feeling good about this one. He got through the song safely and ended on his knees, hands splayed on the floor. When he opened his eyes again the others were sitting next to the mirrors just watching him.

“Wow” Hyunjin murmured softly, Minho wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard.

“This dance is going to be excellent,” Felix said much louder.

Minho had to agree, this dance was going to be amazing. He was feeling inspired, and when he was inspired there was no stopping him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the longest chapter so far? I think it is. I was going to spit it into two but I've been waiting to upload it for so long that I couldn't wait to get both parts up.  
> Two updates in two days! I'm doing this instead of class work so that's that.  
> Thank you for everybody who had been following on with this story, your support really means a lot to me and I'm glad you are enjoying it.


	13. Chapter 13 (His laughter was contagious, and his smile was pretty)

Minho supposed he should have seen this coming.

When 3racha was busy they sat together, when he was busy dancing the others sat together. He supposed it was only a matter of time before they all ended up seated at the same table.

Sure, they had all hung out together now, but that had been out of school. Merging the tables in the courtyard seemed like a bigger deal for no reason than it felt like another barrier between them that had been broken.

He supposed that it shouldn’t have surprised him that they would end up sitting all together, but it still did.

It didn’t occur to him what was happening straight away, and he felt foolish for not noticing immediately.

Minho had come out of social studies in a relatively good mood, which surprised everyone as he had been vocal about how much he disliked the class.

Changbin was already sitting at the table along with Seungmin and Felix. Minho sat down next to Seungmin; the boy had grown on him. Minho couldn’t believe that he had thought he was innocent at first. Seungmin was so savage Minho couldn’t help but like him a little.

They were quickly joined by Hyunjin and Minho didn’t blame himself for thinking that was going to be everyone. 3racha often spent their breaks in the studio, spending more time than was necessarily healthy working on their music.

He supposed he should have realised the obvious when Changbin sat down on Hyunjin’s right, but to be honest the rapper’s presence hadn’t fully registered in Minho’s brain. He was still floating on the high that dance had created the previous week.

It had been a long time since dance had created this much joy for him. He couldn’t help but milk it for all it was worth. He hummed _I See_ , completely oblivious to anything that was going on at the table, not noticing the cautious side-eyes everyone was giving him.

Then Chan and Jisung came out into the courtyard and Minho’s high came crashing down.

Chan looked over at the table, eyebrows raised with surprise and Minho realised that this hadn’t been orchestrated. Chan had been meddling in their lives so much these days that it was surprising for anything to happen naturally.

Jisung didn’t seem to notice what was happening until he was halfway to the table.

Minho guessed he spotted Felix first, the Australians bleached hair standing out against the rest of their dark natural colours. Minho saw Han register Felix’s presence and frantically searched until his eyes fell on Minho and his entire body froze.

Minho hadn’t been glaring at him but as he saw Han’s fear resurface his face settled into a scowl. He hated that it felt natural now.

His life would be so much simpler if Han wasn’t afraid of him.

Han still hadn’t moved, and Chan had stopped beside him.

“What are they doing?” Changbin grumbled. “I need to ask Chan about the Physics assignment.”

“Ewww Physics!” Seungmin complained, his head dropping to the table. He was also taking the subject just a year below the other two. Changbin patted his head sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, it gets harder.”

Seungmin groaned and Minho couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shift over.” Minho looked up at Han, who was poking Hyunjin so he could sit next to him. He looked back at Minho and they made eye contact. Jisung set his jaw and glared into Minho’s eyes, as if challenging him to say anything.

Minho almost smiled. He liked it when Jisung wasn’t afraid.

Hyunjin did shift over and both Jisung and Chan squished onto the benches. It was squishy with all of them there, Minho didn’t mind it. Seungmin’s arm pressed against his own on one side Chan against the other.

The table felt much more like their space with everyone here.

Minho hummed happily. Jisung looked at him funny as did Chan, but neither said anything and Minho pretended he hadn’t seen them.

He still hated Han, but he was in a good mood and he wasn’t going to let Han’s presence ruin that.

Minho didn’t know how long he had been zoned out for, dreaming up possible choreography for I See, but suddenly he was shaken back into reality. Jisung was giggling uncontrollably, it was a sound Minho hadn’t heard before.

What was going on? Why wasn’t Jisung scared? Was it not only Wednesday, five days ago that Han had basically run out of the dance studios in fear when Minho had arrived? Why was he so okay with Minho being here?

Changbin looked smug, so Minho guessed that he must have said whatever was making Jisung lose it. He hadn’t heard Changbin speak. The curious part of him wanted to ask so he could decide whether it was really that funny, the sensible part of him knew not to. He didn’t want everybody to know he had an interest in Jisung.

Jisung’s giggle slowly transformed into a laugh, until he was doubled over struggling to breathe. His smile was shaped like a heart, Minho had never noticed that before.

Minho looked down at the table so his friends wouldn’t see the tiny grin spread across his face.

He still hated Han, but he had to admit his laughter was contagious, and his smile was pretty.

“You’re so loud Jisung.” Felix laughed throwing a cherry tomato from his salad at his friend. “Literally the whole courtyard is staring at us.” Minho had always been told that Han was loud, but he’d always been deadly quiet around him. As hard as he tried not to be, he was very interested in this new side everybody else already knew.

“I know I am, but you love that about me,” Jisung said in what was most likely supposed to be a charming way. He flashed another grin and Minho realised he had been staring at Jisung’s mouth. He looked away quickly, his cheeks warm as Felix scoffed.

“What do you mean! I don’t love anything about you, you’re a bastard.” Felix said biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“You don’t love me!” Jisung gasped, his hand over his heart. “Do you hear this Jinnie, he doesn’t love me!” He leaned to the side resting his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, then re-adjusted so he was slumped against Hyunjin’s chest, all while pouting at Felix. Minho didn’t like Jisung’s pout, he looked like a brat.

“Jisung!” Hyunjin whined but he did nothing to push him away.

“Oh, so you don’t love me either.” Jisung playfully crumpled his face and widened his eyes like he was about to cry. He lifted his head of Hyunjin’s chest, but Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Jisung’s waist, stopping him from moving. His arm caught the fabric of Jisung’s shirt and Minho’s eyes widened as a flash of smooth skin was revealed before the fabric fell back into place.

“No,” Hyunjin said pulling Jisung back against his chest and tucking Jisung’s head under his chin. “I love you way more than Felix, that’s why I’m your best friend.”

Jisung and Felix both laughed and Hyunjin tightened his grip, squeezing Jisung making his giggle come out strange. Seungmin rolled his eyes while the others completely ignored them. They were too used to Jisung’s antics and had all been subject to his affection too many times to be surprised.

That was except for Minho.

Jisung had never been this comfortable around Minho. He had never shown this level of affection, never been this loud, never been this happy.

Jisung smirked as Minho struggled to look anywhere else but the pair, where Hyunjin’s hand dipped under the fabric of Jisung’s shirt, gripping bare skin.

A dusky blush spread over Minho’s cheeks as Hyunjin gently rubbed the side of Jisung’s waist.

“You hear that,” Jisung jeered at Felix, “He’s my best friend, I don’t need your love.” He twisted his body around and kissed the underside of Hyunjin’s jaw.

“Eww Jisung!” Hyunjin exclaimed pushing him away. Jisung laughed as his stomach hit the table, winding him slightly.

“Never mind, I don’t want him,” Hyunjin said, disgusted.

“Does my love mean nothing! Seungmin?” Jisung turned to the last 00 liner hopefully. Minho realised he was smiling and ironed his face back into a neutral expression. Chan was looking at him with one eyebrow raised, sipping on a juice box thoughtfully. The rest of the table were too busy laughing at Seungmin’s disgusted face to pay any attention.

“I don’t need you; I have Minho Hyung now.” He swung his arm around Minho’s shoulder and Jisung’s eyes widened. Minho struggled to keep a straight face as Seungmin poked his cheek.

“I’m your favourite aren’t I Hyung.”

“Of course not.” Minho’s facade only broke slightly. “Felix is my favourite.”

Felix cheered and Seungmin fake gasped. Minho was glad Seungmin knew he was joking. He wasn’t sure if Jisung had.

Jisung.

He was laughing again, his head basically in Hyunjin’s lap as he fell forward.

“Fuck you Hyung, I’m Jeongin’s favourite,” Seungmin grumbled playfully. Minho didn’t recognise the name, but he didn’t care right now, because Jisung was laughing at something Minho had said.

His smile was so much prettier when it was Minho who had caused it. He wanted Jisung to wear that expression forever.

Minho suddenly hated that he, himself, had been the reason he had never seen Jisung laugh before. He hated that his presence had changed the boy so much.

Jisung gasped for breath and straightened up. Minho looked away, not wanting to be caught watching.

“You’re so god damn loud,” Hyunjin said, playfully pushing Jisung’s shoulder.

“Be careful, or I’ll kiss you again!” Jisung pouted making kissy faces at Hyunjin, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Minho didn’t miss the blush that rose to his cheeks and how his fingertips gently brushed the skin of his jaw where Jisung lips had touched.

The sun came out from behind the clouds and its light was warm on Minho’s skin. Minho shut his eyes happily. Maybe _I see_ had been his lucky song, everything had been so perfect since Wednesday.

He listened to his friends talk, the sunlight hitting his face. He didn’t want to think about Jisung too deeply right now. He still hated him; he just thought his smile was pretty. He just liked him better when he wasn’t afraid.

There was nothing more to it.

Minho still hated Han.

He probably always would.


	14. Chapter 14 (Unconditionally and unrequited)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> I'm drowning in homework right now, I'm doing my research project right now (Australians will know what this is) and it's very difficult.  
> Sorry that it's been a little bit longer since I last update than it usually is, but I don't really stick to an update schedule.  
> It's twice as long as it usually is so I hope that makes up for it.

Jisung dropped his bag in the hallway. It landed with an echoing thud and he could hear the downstairs neighbour grumble in response. He sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Why had he kissed Hyunjin?

He should have known it was a bad idea to, but he was instinctively affectionate and Hyunjin used to be okay with it.

Hyunjin had been so awkward around him lately. Every time they touched Hyunjin would pull away, almost panicked.

He remembered Hyunjin’s arms around his waist, his hand rubbing the side of his stomach. It had felt like Hyunjin had liked it, or at least been okay with it. But once the bell rang, Hyunjin hadn’t said a word to him, going so far as to cancel on the plans they had together.

It was probably for the best, because like usual Jisung was drowning in homework, but it really hurt him. Hyunjin never cancelled plans.

He left his bag on the floor and wandered into the kitchen, lost in thought.

“You look like a mess.”

He spun around.

“Mum?”

His mum was sitting at the dining table sipping a cup of tea and smiling kindly at him. She nodded slightly and a grin broke out on Jisung’s face.

“Oh my god, I thought you were working late tonight?” He couldn’t help but laugh, it had been a long time since she had been able to have time off work.

“They let me off early today, the ward was relatively empty. They didn’t need me there.” She put her tea down and Jisung tackled her into a hug.

“Jesus, I’m here every-day kiddo.” She stroked the back of his head.

“Not really.” He muttered into the fabric of her shirt.

She didn’t say anything because they both knew he was right. She was never home, and Jisung missed her. His life was lonely without his parents.

“When’s Dad coming home?” Jisung asked, hopefully, but knowing that the answer would disappoint.

“Late.” His mum replied trying to keep the smile on her face. “He’ll probably have to go back to America soon, unfortunately.”

Jisung clenched his fist, hidden from his mum’s view.

“He only just got back.”

“I know.” His mum sighed. She must miss him a lot too. “There’s nothing he can do about it.”

“I liked his old job better,” Jisung whined.

“You’ve been saying that since you were fourteen.” His mum teased and Jisung smiled weakly. He at least had her for tonight, that was more than he had expected.

“Do you want to go out or something?” He asked trying to smile for real. “Quality mother-son time?”

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

Jisung thought to the backpack of work he had left in the hallway. Yes, he had a lot of homework.

“Not too much, maybe a bit but it can wait.” He lied.

His mum laughed seeing through his lie easily.

“I’m sorry Sungie. I’m really too tired to go anywhere, maybe we could just hang here for tonight.”

Of course. Just because she had this afternoon off didn’t fix the fact that she was overworked.

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung said, gently touching her hands with his. “How about a movie?”

His mum agreed and went to the living room to pick the film. Jisung stayed in the kitchen and after a little bit of scavenging found a packet of microwaveable popcorn. He sat on the island while waiting for it to cook.

For a moment, in the excitement of having his mum here, he had forgotten about Hyunjin, and he almost felt guilty. Hyunjin was his best friend, surely, he would have told Jisung if he had done something to hurt him? Would Jisung say if Hyunjin had done something?

The microwave beeped and Jisung tipped the popcorn into a bowl and took it out to the living room, where his mum was digging blankets out of the cupboard. She looked up as Jisung entered and frowned at his expression.

“What’s bothering you, baby?” She asked taking the bowl from him and putting it down on the coffee table.

He sighed again and flopped down on the couch.

“It’s Hyunjin.”

He paused to let her speak but she didn’t say anything so Jisung continued.

“I don’t know what I did but every time I hug him, hold his hand, anything, he gets really awkward and doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.”

“Have you asked him what’s wrong?” His mum asked sitting down next to him. Jisung shook his head.

“This might just be a misunderstanding. Sometimes people just need their space,” She smiled at him, “you can be a bit overbearing.”

Jisung pouted and hit her playfully.

“Can we just watch the movie.”

“Just know I’m always here to talk if you need.” She said as she clicked play.

They both knew she wasn’t.

Jisung curled up into the crook of her arm, resting his head against her shoulder like he used to do when he was little. It was a struggle as he was significantly taller than she was now, but Jisung made it work.

Maybe he just wanted to be a kid again.

His mum patted his hair as they watched the film, the popcorn sat relatively untouched on the table.

“I bumped into Tommy the other day.” His mum said during one of the quiet parts of the movie.

“Hmm,” Jisung responded, his heart dropping.

“He’s grown up a lot, very handsome now.”

Jisung didn’t doubt it, Tommy had always been the most beautiful person he had known.

“He told me to say hi to you for him, I think he misses you.” She whispered stroking the side of his face.

“Yeah.” Jisung squeezed his eyes shut.

“He still cares about you a lot, why don’t you try to reconnect, with Deaun too.”

Jisung opened his eyes, hoping she couldn’t see the tears glistening in them.

“Sometimes people need their space Mum.”

_3 years ago_

_A week had gone by since Jisung had last seen Tommy, which wasn’t unusual but with the uncertain note they had left each other on, it felt a lot longer._

_Jisung felt like he was constantly waiting, like his life had gone on hold without Tommy. Anxiety built in his chest every time he thought of his best friend and the implications behind their last encounter. Jisung checked his shit, hardly working, flip phone constantly, hoping against all hope that Tommy had messaged but too nervous to do it himself._

_When Tommy finally messaged, Jisung almost didn’t believe it. He had been hoping to the point that when the message popped up, he thought for a moment that he was making it up._

_“Do you want to come to finish that snake?”_

_As if Jisung would answer anything but yes. He wondered if everyone’s world revolved around the person they love._

_Jisung’s certainly did._

_He met Tommy outside his house like always, as if nothing had changed. Maybe it hadn’t, maybe Tommy thought everything was normal._

_Jisung didn’t want this awkwardness to be normal. Maybe it wasn’t awkward to Tommy._

_He laughed casually but rubbed the rubber of his bike handle nervously._

_Maybe Tommy could feel the difference too._

_The spray paint cans in Jisung’s backpack clinked together unusually loudly. Jisung had never been caught while painting, and most of the time he didn’t worry about it. Today felt different, today carrying them felt dangerous._

_They arrived at the skate park long before the sun went down. Jisung knew it was a bad idea to start before dark, but the silence between the two was too uncomfortable to be doing nothing._

_No one had touched the snake since the last time they were here, Jisung hated having to fix what other ‘artists’ had ruined. To Jisung there was a difference between tagging and street art, at least that’s what he told himself to rid of any guilt his hobby caused._

_Tommy had his skateboard with him but didn’t seem to want to actually use it. He sat on the railing and watched Jisung, kicking his legs and tapping nervously._

_“What are you so fidgety for?” Jisung asked through the fabric of his jumper, which was pulled up over his nose and mouth to stop him from breathing in the fumes._

_“Just cold,” Tommy answered tilting his head and smiling. Jisung would believe anything Tommy said if he smiled like that._

_Jisung couldn’t help but grin back, even when he knew that Tommy was lying._

_The night fell and Tommy got up and stood on his board, but still didn’t do anything._

_“Why did you ask me to come out tonight?” Jisung asked putting the cans down and dropping the hoodie from his mouth._

_“I thought you would want to finish. Do I need a reason to hang out with you?”_

_The streetlight hit Tommy’s cheekbones, accentuating the strong lines of his face. Jisung shook his head and turned back to his painting._

_“No, you don’t.”_

_He pulled the hoodie back up and sprayed the yellow fire in the snake’s eyes. He did want to finish this one, but he didn’t think that was the reason behind their visit._

_He pulled off one of his gloves of and dropped it to the ground, then using his thumb smudged the wet paint across the wall. Tommy came and stood next to Jisung, watching interestedly. Jisung stepped back and brought his hand across his cheek, purposely streaking the colour over his skin._

_He glanced over at Tommy to see if he had noticed but he was still staring at the eyes of the snake, rubbing his palm along the thigh of his pants._

_“I think it’s done,” Jisung whispered and Tommy finally turned to look at him. He smiled but it faded almost as fast as it arrived. His eyes flickered to the paint, but he made no move to wipe it away._

_“You think?” Tommy was incredibly close to him again, almost mirroring their position from the previous week._

_“Yeah. I think so.” Jisung said breathlessly._

_Wipe the paint away again, touch me._

_If you kissed me, I would kiss back._

_“Can I ask you something?” Tommy reached up and tucked a strand of Jisung’s hair behind his ear._

_“Yeah,” Jisung responded perhaps too eagerly._

_“Do you think Deaun likes me?” Tommy stepped away and the moment was broken._

_“Yeah, of course, you’re like one of her best friends.” Jisung shook the can again. His voice cracked slightly in his attempt not to sound hurt._

_“No, I mean like, like me like me?” Tommy asked quickly as if he was embarrassed._

_“Oh,” Jisung replied quietly and Tommy’s cheeks reddened._   
_“Would you hate me if I liked her?”_

_“I could never hate you.” Jisung's voice broke._

_Please don’t say it._

_I love you._

_“Good, because I do. I like her.” Tommy laughed awkwardly as Jisung’s heart broke into a million pieces._

_He shook the can again and tried not to cry._

_Not while Tommy was here._

_“Okay.”_

_Tommy grabbed the paint out of Jisung’s hand and placed it down on the ground before pulling Jisung into a hug._

_“I’m going to ask her out, if that’s okay with you,” Tommy said into his ear. Jisung could hear that he was smiling._

_Jisung’s world was ending._

_“You don’t need my permission. You two are perfect for each other.” Jisung tried to smile as Tommy let him go._

_It wasn’t a lie. There was nothing more perfect than Tommy and Deaun. Apart from Tommy and Jisung, but they would never be perfect again._

_“So, I can?” Tommy was grinning, but for once his smile didn’t bring one to Jisung’s face too._

_“Of course.”_

_Tommy laughed happily and looked up at the stars. To Jisung the looked so distant and hopeless. He wondered if Tommy saw the same sky as beautiful._

_“I think I should go home,” Jisung said struggling to keep his voice stable, but Tommy was too deliriously happy to notice._

_“Oh yeah right, it’s getting late.” He still hadn’t stopped smiling. Jisung felt sick thinking that Tommy was the most beautiful thing in the universe._

_Jisung pulled off his paint-splattered hoodie and tucked it away in his backpack. He shivered in the cool evening air._

_Tommy stared at him like he was mad._

_“What the fuck Man? You’ll freeze!”_

_“Mum can’t see the paint; I’ll never be allowed out again,” Jisung explained quietly, rubbing his arms._

_“Take this.” Tommy pulled off his own hoodie and handed it to Jisung, who hesitated before excepting. The jumper was already oversized on Tommy and Jisung practically drowned in the pink fabric._

_“Thank you.” He muttered._

_“No problem. It suits you, keep it.” Tommy jumped on his bike; skateboard already packed away._

_Maybe Jisung would. As a reminder of everything, he couldn’t have. As a memory of the most beautiful boy and a one-sided love._

_“Are you coming?”_

_“You go ahead, I have one more thing I want to do.” Jisung couldn’t meet Tommy’s eyes._

_Tommy hesitated before leaving Jisung. Jisung was smaller and younger and the part of the neighbourhood they were in wasn’t the nicest. But he did and Jisung finally let himself cry._

_When Jisung left the park, enveloped in the warmth of Tommy’s hoodie, there was a new message sprayed in orange underneath the graffiti snake._

_“You will always have my heart. I will always love you unconditionally and unrequited.”_

Minho couldn’t sleep.

The streetlight shone through the gap in the curtain, lighting the patch of floor where his shoes were, almost tempting him. His apartment felt suffocating compared to the openness of the outside.

It was one of those times when the world felt so big and life felt so opportunistic. His room felt like a prison and the studio felt like freedom.

The rain fell lightly into his hair as he left the complex. He shook the moisture out and smiled happily. The light reflected off the dampened surfaces; it looked like the whole world was glittering gold.

Minho hadn’t been this happy in a long time.

He wasn’t surprised to find Hoseok already at the studio even if it was the middle of the night. Minho knocked on the door, instead of opening it with a key. He smiled and waved as Hobi stared down at him with his hands on his hips. The older boy had obviously been there for hours yet still scolded Minho for being awake still.

“Sleep is important, Minho. How are you supposed to dance properly while carrying bags under your eyes?”

Minho just shrugged and placed his bag down next to Hobi’s.

“I’m too young to worry about that aren’t I?”

If the studio at school was his home, this one was an extension of his body. He knew every inch of it like the back of his own hand.

He had only been dancing here for a couple of years, joining after moving back to the city for high school, but he already felt complete here.

Maybe just as much as he had at his mum’s, but he didn’t like thinking about that.

Hobi went back to dancing, and Minho warmed up while watching him. His dancing was sharp and fun, exploding with energy. Hobi danced a lot more like Felix than Minho did.

The song finished and Hobi collapsed on the floor. He took a while to catch his breath before speaking.

“How’s school?”

Minho scoffed, “Awful”

“Come on it can’t be that bad”

“It really is.” Minho paused for a second. “Dance is good though.”

“Dance is always good.”

Minho would disagree. He loved dance, but it was too painful sometimes. Dance was not always good.

But it was now.

“Actually, can I get a bit of help?”

He agreed and Minho explained the assignment to Hobi who nodded supportively every now and then.

“Felix and Hyunjin are good and I’m worried that I won’t be able to design it to show how good they really are. I feel responsible for how well they do, is that dumb?”

“Look at little Minho being a responsible senior!” Hoseok teased and rubbed Minho’s head roughly. “Don’t worry you’ll always be our baby here.”

“Hyung!” Minho pushed him off.

“Yeah, I’ll help.”

Minho played the song and the familiar starting text-sound flooded thought the studio. Minho couldn’t help but hum along.

“It’s an odd choice,” Hobi commented halfway through. They both sat on the floor, just listening.

“I think it’s perfect.” Minho jumped to the defence. “It’s a bit different, but that’s always a good way to catch people’s attention.”

Hobi hummed in response.

“Where did you even find this?”

Minho paused; he had forgotten that he didn’t know who had made the song.

“Hyunjin and Felix found it… I don’t know where.”

Minho was surprised he hadn’t asked them yet, since he had long since admitted that he was becoming obsessed with it.

I See was invading his life, seeping into every corner of his brain, and despite how sad the lyrics were, it had brought so much joy into his miserable grey life.

Minho couldn’t help but drown in the song and bask in the light it provided.

It was well past three in the morning when he finally left the studio. Minho walked with Hobi to his apartment first and consequently decided to walk back the long way back to his own. This route was significantly darker than his usual, but he really couldn’t bring himself to return home quite yet. Anyway, it was a full moon, and as far as he was aware, he was the most dangerous thing out here.

Chan would lose it if he knew he was out here. Chan didn’t need to know.

He had his headphones with him but eventually decided against using them, instead, he listened to the sound of the night around him.

He was going to be so sleep deprived tomorrow, but he didn’t really care. Tomorrow felt like years away when freedom was now.

Unfortunately, along with freedom came time to think.

Along with time to think, came the conversation he had with Changbin just before leaving school, and the things he had implied.

Things Minho didn’t really want to think about.

_Minho good mood had been distinguished somewhat after a cruel and content-heavy maths lesson he would rather not have had, and he had been waiting for the bell to go for the past hour. When it finally did, he was out his seat before anyone else and out the door before anyone could stop him. He was ready to run all the way home, only to be stopped by Changbin who was waiting outside the class for him._

_“We should talk, can I walk you home?”_

_It sounded so serious, but Changbin laughed casually, and Minho fell for it._

_They didn’t talk until they were already most of the way home. Changbin seemed to be buying his time, in a futile attempt to lull Minho into a false sense of security. Him and Chan were just as bad as each other._

_Finally, Changbin seemed to give up on being subtle._

_“You and Jisung didn’t seem to hate each other today.”_

_Minho should have known this is what Changbin had wanted to talk about._

_“Just because I’m in a good mood doesn’t mean I don’t hate him. I’ve simply decided to ignore him because it seems to make you guys happy.” He said flatly, not even looking over at the younger boy._

_“Do you think you hate him?” Changbin asked as if he hadn’t just heard what Minho had said._

_“Yes.”_

_Changbin stopped walking and put his hand out to stop Minho too._

_“Minho, I think it’s time you start thinking about why.”_

_Minho opened his mouth to speak but Changbin interrupted him._

_“Don’t give me that same old bullshit about how you don’t need a reason. We both know that’s a lie.”_

_Minho bit his lip and Changbin patted his shoulder._

_“Just think about it. I might leave you here if that’s okay.”_

_Minho nodded and didn’t move until Changbin’s retreating frame disappeared around the corner._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a show for you! If you want it.  
> It's called His: I didn't mean to fall in love, and its one that really stuck with me even after finishing it. You can watch it on youtube but its kinda hard to find so if you're interested I'll attach a link.  
> I think you'll enjoy it, I certainly did. 
> 
> Also I know it was a cheap move to include Hobi, but I couldn't help myself. I also just realised that there is a line that hints towards Minho being a werewolf. I didn't mean that, just that the full moon would create some light so it wouldn't be so dark. Whoops.  
> Love you xxx


	15. Chapter 15 (For Chan he could pretend)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a great pair of pants today and I'm very happy with them. I'm sorry but I've been very unmotivated to write recently, there has just been too much other stuff going on in my life.

Jisung bounced his leg, unable to stay still. Chan and Changbin both ignored him. Chan had his headphones on and was glued to the screen. His head bobbed in time to a beat Jisung couldn’t hear. Changbin was sitting on Chan’s bed, muttering under his breath, reading the lyrics he had written off his phone and shaking his head when something didn’t sound right.

Jisung glanced down at his own phone, his lyrics seemed a lot shorter compared to Changbin’s, but he was unable to concentrate for the life of him. The competition deadline was closer than was comfortable and for some reason, they had all agreed to create a new track entirely from scratch. Jisung didn’t think they would get it done before it was due, which would be a shame but not the end of the world. There would always be another one. He sighed loudly and stood up.

“I’m getting some food, does anyone want anything.”

Changbin shook his head and Chan didn’t reply, not having heard Jisung over the music. Jisung tapped his shoulder and he pulled the headphones off.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s the nearest convenience store?” Jisung asked as Chan rolled his shoulders back. They cracked loudly and Jisung winced. Chan hadn’t really moved for the three hours they had been there.

“Turn right at the door and then walk until you see the billboard, the one for washing powder, then turn left and then it’s right there.” Chan yawned pushing back from the desk, his chair rolled back until it hit the carpet. Jisung nodded and picked up his backpack from beside Changbin on the bed, having already forgotten almost everything Chan had said. Everything apart from the washing powder.

“Get me coffee please,” Chan added just before Jisung shut the door to Chan’s apartment behind him.

“From a convenience store? It’s going to be shit.”

“I know.” Chan sighed and scooted his chair back towards the desk. “I just need caffeine at this point.” He smiled as Jisung shut the door.

Chan was doing the most for them and it was taking a toll on him.

It had kind of become a joke in their friend group how little Chan slept, but recently it had really begun to worry everybody.

Dark circles under his eyes had seemed to have become a permanent feature on Chan’s face, yet he still insisted he was fine.

Jisung never asked him to sleep, it didn’t feel like it was his place, he just helped Chan whenever he could.

For now, that seemed to mean putting up with Minho.

Jisung had always known that Chan hated them hating each other, it had never made them stop. Luckily Minho had seemed to have the same thought and for now they were both pretending to be indifferent to each other.

It was surprisingly easy to pretend to not hate Minho.

Jisung was finding himself laughing at the jokes Minho told, then both him and Minho falling silent with surprise.

Being with Minho didn’t feel like drowning as much as it had anymore. If Minho didn’t hate him, maybe Jisung would have found it easy to be friends.

But Minho did hate him.

And when the others weren’t there, he made it evident.

Jisung could see the Minho everybody was friends with but knew he would never actually experience his friendship for himself.

But for Chan he could pretend.

Jisung took a gamble at the door, completely unable to recall which direction Chan gave him. Maybe luck was on his side because after a couple of minutes he found the washing powder billboard and not long after, saw the bright lights of the convenience store.

The shop was empty when he walked in, the bell above the door ringing as he entered. The employee must have been around the back. It didn’t really matter.

He wandered around the store not sure what he had come for. He wasn’t even hungry, he just needed to get out of the apartment and the lack of inspiration he found there.

He ended up grabbing a bag of gummy bears and wandering over to the counter where he waited for the employee to come back. A beetle climbed over the sunglass display and Jisung watched it.

Maybe he could write his verse about a beetle. It probably wouldn’t fit with Changbin’s, but it would be funny, in the pessimistic sort of way where no one laughs.

The employee finally arrived, flushed and embarrassed for having left Jisung waiting for so long. He pushed back his long hair and Jisung couldn’t help but think ‘cute’ as the boy’s cheeks increasingly darkened.

He couldn’t have been too different from Jisung in age but was significantly taller. He kind of reminded Jisung of Hyunjin, especially with the dark, mullet like hairstyle he currently had. The employee scanned his candy and handed Jisung the bag back.

“Actually, can I have a coffee too, as strong as you can make it,” Jisung added, and Not Hyunjin stared at him.

“Umm, are you sure?” He asked laughing awkwardly, probably thinking about how shit convenience coffee is. Jisung couldn’t help but laugh too.

“It’s not for me. I have a friend who needs to stay up tonight.” Jisung smiled as if he was sharing an inside joke with the employee who grinned back.

“Oh okay.” Not Hyunjin giggled and turned around to make the drink. “I’ll make it as strong as I can.”

The back of his shirt had a little hole in the shoulder and Jisung smiled, slightly endeared by the imperfection. The bell in the doorway rang and Not Hyunjin looked up and waved at the person who entered. Jisung didn’t turn around and instead found himself looking at the little note written on the back of Not Hyunjin’s hand.

 _16354_. Jisung didn’t know what it meant but the detail made him want to ask.

He didn’t. He didn’t know Not Hyunjin, there was no point making up a possible future where he knew the employee’s name, where he met him on a weekend instead of inside the shop.

But it was fun to imagine.

“Sungie?” The girl who had walked in called softly from behind him. Jisung whipped around clutching his gummy bears to his chest.

“Deaun?” He whispered, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him. “Oh my god, it’s actually you.”

She smiled so sincerely that Jisung almost forgot he had ignored her for three years.

“You’ve grown so much, I hardly recognized you.” She stepped forward and patted his cheek gently. The tips of her fingers were warm and soft against his skin.

“You’ve changed too.” God, he had missed her. “You look good.” He didn’t mean to lean into her touch, but he did and when she drew her hand away, he flinched.

“Thanks,” She flicked her hair playfully. She had dyed it a lighter shade of brown than it had been when they were kids, the change hurt Jisung in a way he hadn’t expected.

“You look so handsome now, and you’re taller than me too! Of course, your mum has shown me pictures, but they hardly do you justice.” Her smile hadn’t left her face, she was truly happy to see him. Jisung felt sick with guilt.

Maybe having run was the biggest mistake of his life. It had become a habit that he couldn’t shake, but then again living with Tommy there as a constant reminder of his heartbreak would have worse than anything hell could inflict.

“I bet you get all the girls, but you’ll always be my baby brother.”

Jisung barely disguised his flinch at her words.

“I’m sorry that it’s been so long since we’ve talked.” He didn’t mention all the messages he had left un-replied. He didn’t need to.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He died a little bit with every piece of kindness she gave. He didn’t deserve Deaun.

“You should come to my party that I’m having the weekend after next. Tommy’s been suggesting I invite you for ages. I just didn’t think it was your scene, so I hadn’t yet but...” She was rambling but Jisung was no longer paying attention.

“Tommy?” He said barely above a whisper. A day hadn’t gone by that he hadn’t thought of the older boy, but it had been a long time since anyone else, other than his mum, had said his name. Years’ worth of hurt and pain suddenly threatened to burst again.

“Yeah, he can’t come sadly, he’s going to be overseas with his dad, but he misses you too, you guys should catch up as well.”

“Yeah... Sure” He couldn’t pretend to smile.

 _Were they still together?_ Jisung didn’t know if he wanted them to be.

“So, you’ll come?”

Jisung said yes because he couldn’t say no to her face. The flat white light in the convenience store was making him dizzy. Deaun placed a hand on his forearm to steady him. They were still painted the same pretty pale pink they always had been. Jisung didn’t know what hurt him more, the things that had changed, or the things that hadn’t.

“Your coffee is ready.” Not Hyunjin cleared his throat awkwardly and placed the takeaway cup down on the counter. There was a number written on it, but Jisung wasn’t happy to see it anymore. The employee still looked like Hyunjin, but he was no longer as pretty. He didn’t have freckles or sunshine’s smile. He was tall and slim not broad like the boy who had skated alongside him for years.

He didn’t look like Tommy.

“Thank you.” Jisung couldn’t bring himself to smile and Not Hyunjin’s face fell.

“I’ll see you on the weekend then,” Deaun asked delicately. As proper as she had always been.

“Yeah, of course.” Jisung couldn’t lie convincingly but Deaun smiled as if she believed him. Maybe she did. Maybe no matter how many times Jisung gave her false hope, she would always believe him, with blind loving faith. Giving him countless second chances, as if Jisung deserved her.

“Excellent! I’ll message you the details closer to the time.” She reached out and squeezed his hand gently and Jisung nodded.

“Sure.”

He took the coffee from the bench and left without looking back. As he walked towards the door, he could see the reflection of both Deaun and Not Hyunjin watching him leave, but he still didn’t turn.

Tommy had broken him.

Maybe that’s what he would write about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't we all meet someone somewhat attractive and suddenly start daydreaming about your wedding?
> 
> How mad would you all be if I made him go on a date with Not Hyunjin and that was the end of the story?
> 
> Dont worry that's not gonna happen, but what if I did.


	16. Chapter 16 (Pretending not to hate Han)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this before school hits me with another round of work and I wont be able to write. 
> 
> There is an album I've obsessively listening to recently, every song is a master piece. If you get around to it its called SAWAYAMA and it is very good.
> 
> Sorry I didn't do a great job of editing this, I've kind of run out of time but like I said I wanted to get it out.

“I’ve got the night off of work next Saturday.” Jisung’s dad sipped his coffee in an attempt to be casual. Jisung squirmed, uncomfortable in his seat. “Me and your Mum were thinking of taking you out to dinner, somewhere fancy, unless you have plans of course.” His dad was trying to catch his eye but Jisung wasn’t able to.

Once upon a time Jisung would have said yes, but that was when he was fourteen and still felt like he knew his parents. Now his dad felt like a stranger and his mum felt like a shell of the person he once knew. He didn’t think he could stand an evening of dressing up proper and pretending that he was still the little boy they both viewed him as.

Jisung liked the idea of his dad more than the actual person now. He liked the memories of when he was young, and his dad wasn’t as absent from his life. Maybe his dad missed those times too, maybe that’s why he still treated Jisung like he was fourteen.

“Are you sure you don’t want it to just be the two of you.” Jisung wondered if his dad still heard the squeak of his voice breaking when he spoke.

His dad reached out to touch Jisung’s hand, Jisung pulled away and his dad's hand thumped awkwardly on the table. They were both silent for a second, Jisung took a tiny nibble of his cold toast and stared at the chipped edge of the coffee cup.

“I would love to have you there if you’re available. I know your life is busy now.” His dad was giving him the option of an excuse, a leeway out of this and Jisung felt guilty for being relived. He didn’t want to hurt his dad’s feelings, but he also didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to be reminded of everything he’d lost when they moved.

“I would love to come.” Jisung lied. His dad didn’t know him well enough to tell. “But Deaun is having a party on Saturday and she invited me to come.”

Jisung’s actual plans for Saturday involved ignoring Deaun’s texts and locking himself in his bedroom, drowning in a pit of sorrow and self-hate. That wasn’t going to be a good enough reason to get him out of dinner.

Earlier in the week, he thought there was nothing he wanted to do less than walk through Deaun’s front door, this had apparently trumped it.

Anyway, without Tommy there it wouldn’t quite be as awful.

“Deaun?” His dad asked quietly. Even if he had been absent, he knew that Deaun had been a touchy subject in his life. Maybe he, like everybody else, still thought Jisung had loved her.

“Yeah,” Jisung replied just as quietly. “I bumped into her the other day and she asked me.”

Tears prickled behind Jisung’s eyes; he didn’t want his dad to see him cry.

“We can do dinner another night. It’s been too long since you’ve seen her.” His dad slammed his hand down on the table definitively. Jisung knew it wasn’t that simple but was glad that he would be able to abandon their plans for dinner without feeling guilty.

He still would.

His dad got up from the table and pulled his bag over his shoulder. He smiled at Jisung and Jisung smiled back weakly.

“I’m glad you’re seeing her again Jisung.”

Jisung didn’t know if he felt the same.

The front door shut and Jisung sighed loudly, the apartment was empty again. He hated that it felt more natural this way.

His phone sat face down on the table and Jisung flipped it over. The message he had received from Deaun the day before still remained read but un-replied to.

_18.56: The party’s on Saturday at my house! Don’t worry about bringing anything, unless you want to bring someone else with you. Hope to see you there xxx_

Jisung sighed again and typed a reply.

_7.24: Sounds great, I might bring my friend Hyunjin but I’m not sure if he can come._

He didn’t know if he wanted Hyunjin to be able to come. His past had always been a secret in his friend group. They all knew that he missed it and they had guessed that he still loved someone, but they had never been assured of the truth.

Having Hyunjin there would give him someone to talk to, someone to fall back on, while surrounded by Deaun’s rich friends and the suffocating knowledge of his past. Hyunjin could be his saviour, but for him to be, Jisung would have to let him into his past, and he was not sure if he could handle that.

Pretending not to hate Han was a lot easier than Minho would have assumed. Han made it natural, playing alongside Minho’s jokes to the point where Minho wondered if Jisung knew he was only pretending.

Everyone was happy for their act and honestly, it made it worth it. Minho could put up if it meant seeing his friends smile because contrary to popular belief Minho wasn’t completely heartless.

Everybody was sitting at the table together for the first time since the previous week, except for Seungmin who, according to Felix, had something to do before coming over. Minho didn’t really want to be there, Hyunjin had basically dragged him out the studio where he had been teaching the others the choreo that he had made with Hobi. He would have much preferred to have stayed in the studio than sitting under the burning sun pretending to find Jisung funny.

But the others were happy and that is all that mattered.

“Guess what happened last week when we were at Chan’s!” Changbin interrupted Felix, who just smiled to hide his annoyance. Jisung shrunk in his chair and Minho glanced at him curiously. His cheeks were pink, and Minho couldn’t help but grin at the idea of the story embarrassing him.

“Jisung went out to get candy and he came back with coffee and a boy’s number!” Changbin let out a barking laugh and Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the way Jisung squirmed uncomfortably. Felix laughed too, poking Jisung’s cheek, which was aflame. Minho was glad he sat so far away, because if not, in the moment where he lacked all self-control, he might have poked them too.

“A boy’s number?” Hyunjin asked softly and Minho wondered if he was the only one that heard.

“I told him that the coffee was for a friend!” Jisung whined and covered his cheeks with his hands so the others couldn’t see how red they were. “I don’t know why he decided to write it there.”

“Yeah!” Chan crossed his arms and pouted; Minho cringed seeing his hyung trying to play cute. “It was my coffee; how do we know it wasn’t meant for me?!”

Changbin rolled his eyes.

“Obviously not, the convenience store guy doesn’t know you.”

“Um actually he does,” Chan interjected, “You’re forgetting that this store is by _my_ house.”

“Even more reason for it not to be for you,” Changbin exclaimed, waving his hands around. “Jisung might be a whiny bitch but when you first meet him, he’s cute.”

Minho couldn’t help but laugh again, Jisung’s flushed and embarrassed face might be his favourite thing ever.

“Hey!” Jisung pouted and Changbin slapped him playfully.

“I called you cute, be happy with it!”

“I can’t believe you hadn’t told us yet.” Felix laughed and it was clear that making fun of Jisung was a favourite pass time of his. Minho understood completely.

Changbin shrugged,

“We haven’t sat together since then.”

Hyunjin, who had been staring intently at a leaf which sat on the table finally spoke.

“Did you message him?” His voice was unusually quiet like he was afraid of the answer.

“Yeah did you?!” Felix asked excitedly. Jisung flushed again and Felix poked his cheek again. Jisung slapped his hand away.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Aww,” Felix whined.

“I know!” Changbin agreed, “but I made him save the number.”

Minho glanced over at Hyunjin who was staring at the leaf again. He couldn’t tell if Jisung’s answer was the one Hyunjin had been hoping for.

“Why didn’t you?” Felix asked while pushing Jisung’s shoulder.

“Yeah, why didn’t you?” Chan joined the conversation and Jisung glared at him, completely betrayed. “Was he the dark-haired, tall one, kinda looks like Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin looked up, curious with the mention of his name.

Jisung nodded and Chan frowned.

“He’s cute, and you still didn’t message him!”

“Not my type,” Jisung grumbled and beside him Minho physically felt Hyunjin flinch.

“Don’t try telling me you don’t swing that way!” Changbin slapped the table, completely missing the fear all over Jisung’s face.

“Changbin,” Chan warned and Changbin shrunk back realising what he had just said.

“It’s okay.” Jisung murmured, but he looked terrified.

The table fell into an uncomfortable silence. Minho felt all six eyes flicker to him, to gauge his reaction. Minho bit back anger at their assumptions. He might have been a monster, but he was definitely not homophobic.

He wasn’t even sure if Changbin had told the truth, he didn’t think anyone knew, but that didn’t matter.

Minho considered himself a hateful person, but he hated singular people for the things they did, the actions they took, the things they could control. Hating someone for a part of them, for something they had no control over, for something that was so distinctly normal and was doing nothing to hurt them? That was a concept that Minho would never understand. That type of hatred was rotten, and the closet thing earth would experience to the devil. Minho had experienced it first-hand.

He hated Han, but the reason would never because of something he had been born to be.

Everybody picked at their food unsure how to break the awkward silence. It was clear that Changbin regretted his words and it was clear that Jisung didn’t hold it against him, but Jisung was also hurt and no one knew how to approach him.

In the end, they didn’t need to, because Seungmin swooped in like the angel he was, and saved them.

“Hey guys,” Seungmin waved as he walked over, and Felix audibly sighed in relief. Jisung was still folded in on himself but waved back, his eyes still wide with fear.

Seungmin raised his eyebrows slightly, picking up on the tension at the table. Chan caught his eye and shook his head slightly, his message clear. Not now.

Seungmin didn’t sit straight away, instead pulled a younger boy to his side, who Minho hadn’t noticed before. The kid smiled shyly to reveal a mouthful of braces; Minho smirked when he caught Chan visible melt out the corner of his eye.

“This is Jeongin, we’re both in the same baseball team.” Seungmin pushed him forwards lightly and Jeongin stumbled slightly.

“Hi” Jeongin squeaked and Minho knew that Chan was falling in love. Chan really didn’t need to father another child.

“Hi Jeongin, I’m Chan. Feel free to take a seat.” Chan gestured to the empty spot beside Hyunjin, who smiled welcomely at the boy.

Jeongin slid into a seat, clearly a bit nervous with everybody’s attention on him, Seungmin squeezed in on the other side of him and smiled at Jeongin reassuringly.

Jeongin didn’t mean to but he had resolved all tension between them. Jisung visibly relaxed and even smiled slightly when introducing himself. Seeing Han smile made Minho relax too, he didn’t even realise he had been tensed.

He didn’t care about Han. He just thought his face was nicer when he smiled. His frown was ugly and the look of terror that he wore before was even worse.

Chan was absolutely smitten with Jeongin, conversing easily with the boy who looked a little bit overwhelmed with Chan’s kindness. Minho got it; he had been overwhelmed at first too.

Seungmin looked relived that Jeongin was fitting in as well as he was and sighed happily. Minho thought he was the only one to notice this, but Jisung had too. He caught Minho’s eye and they both smirked like they were the only two who understood a non-existent joke. Jisung’s eyes glittered when he smiled. Minho froze and Jisung looked back at the table very quickly.

_What was that?_

Jisung had heard Seungmin talk about Jeongin before but he had never actually met the kid. The pair had sat down at the other end of the table so Jisung wasn’t very involved with the conversation, but he liked just listening sometimes.

Maybe that’s why he noticed Seungmin sigh happily.

Minho also liked to listen not speak, so maybe that’s why Jisung immediately looked to see if he had also noticed.

He had.

And more so, he had also looked to see if Jisung had noticed.

He had.

They caught each other’s eyes and smiled, sharing a joke before either of them realised what they were doing.

Jisung looked back down at the heart on the table he didn’t dare look up again, not at Minho.

_What was that?_

Instead, he just listened. He heard Jeongin talking about baseball, Hyunjin talk about dance and Seungmin talk about Jeongin.

He knew Seungmin well enough to know how badly he wanted them to like Jeongin. Seungmin was social but he didn’t make close friends very easy and when he did, he worried about losing them endlessly. Jisung was happy that he had invited Jeongin over because everybody seemed to love him. Chan especially but that was to be expected.

“Do you want to sit with us at lunch?” Seungmin asked eagerly as the end of the break neared.

Chan laughed kindly. “Don’t make him feel like he has to Seungmin, I’m sure Jeongin wants to go back to his own friends.”

Jeongin looked at the table.

“Not really” He whispered quietly so that Jisung only just caught it.

Chan smiled sympathetically

“Well I guess we’ll see you at lunch then”

They left it at that.

In the end, it was Jeongin’s arrival that cemented the groups as one.

Without him, they could easily separate. Jisung, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Felix at one table, Minho, Changbin and Chan at another. That’s just the way it was. No one was torn apart by having to choose, everybody knew their place. Minho supposed it was the outcome of originally being to groups.

But Jeongin didn’t fit into that. He was just as much a part of Minho’s group as he was Han’s, them splitting now would result in Jeongin having to choose and no one wanted that.

So, they became one and at this point, there was no going back.

Minho would just have to deal with Jisung and Jisung would just have to deal with Minho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say how much I love the new hair colours. 
> 
> Also that the next chapter will probably be a while, because it's a big one that I've been working towards for a bit. It will probably be three of four times longer than my average chapter. I'm considering splitting it up but I don't think it will feel natural so it might just stay as a really long one.
> 
> Anyway love you and thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17 (It’s just an act, right?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this is sooooo much longer than the others. Most of my chapters are between 1500 and 2500 words, I think i have one that's 3000 but this one is 8500.

Friday rolled around and bringing the blistering heat of summer with it. Summer had always seemed to be Minho’s saviour, taking away the grief of spring and drowning his world with sunny evenings and late nights.

The weekend seemed to come early and to Minho, it already felt like summer break. The holidays were close enough to dream for, but still so far. Maybe when all his work was due it would feel like school was important again, but for now all that seemed to matter was how bright the world felt.

Chan had dragged them all into hanging out together again, he didn’t have to try very hard anymore and Hyunjin was more than happy to host.

“Is everyone free tomorrow? There’s a fair going on out of town, it might be fun.”

They were walking to Hyunjin’s house after school. The hill was steep, and the sun shone right into their eyes. The younger ones, including Jeongin, who had settled in easily, had been screaming girl group lyrics at the top of their lungs and attempting to do the choreography as they walked. Chan was crying with laugher watching them and the people at they passed stared.

Minho didn’t mind the stares; he had long been used to them. In fact, it was kind of nice to be watched with a sort of fondness that came from their childlike freedom.

It did truly feel like summer.

Minho looked up from his feet to Hyunjin who had spoken.

He was looking around the group hopefully his eyes lingering on Jisung, who had looked down at his feet.

There was a chorus of yes and a two no. Minho glanced over curiously to Jisung who was the other person who declined.

“Sorry Hyunjin I’m busy” He didn’t look like he was excited about it.

“Me too” Minho smiled at Hyunjin sadly, who was trying to keep the smile on his face and failing miserably.

Neither elaborated and the heat suddenly felt sticky and uncomfortable instead of promising.

“Only one of you needs to not go,” Changbin said bitterly, half-heartedly kicking a rock. Jeongin looked around the group, looking for answers in their faces. No one had explained that they hated each other to him yet. Maybe it was just obvious.

Everybody pretended Changbin hadn’t said anything and continued up the hill in silence.

Chan stopped him just outside the front door. He put his arm across Minho’s chest to stop him walking and waited until the others had entered and were out of earshot.

“Please don’t tell me Changbin is right.”

“What?”

Chan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Please don’t tell me you’re still avoiding Jisung?”

“No, I’m not, I’m actually busy,” Minho said which was true. Was he still avoiding Jisung?

“Good, I’m glad you two aren’t fighting anymore.” Had they ever been?

Minho didn’t say anything, and Chan let him inside. It was easier just to let Chan think he didn’t hate Jisung anymore.

_He was lying to one of them, it was just a question of who. Chan or himself?_

Jisung was late, but he was always late so that was expected. He locked his bike to the fence and placed the key in the pocket of his jeans, hoping he would remember where he put it later.

Deaun’s house was exactly as he remembered, apart from the tell-tale signs of a party sprawled across the grass. The manicured lawn a perfect square cut hedges would have shown just how rich her family was even if the house wasn’t basically a small mansion.

Jisung couldn’t imagine how he ever felt at home here, her money felt like a different world.

Deaun’s golden retriever Daisy didn’t run out to greet him like she used to, and Jisung couldn’t help but peek around the corner, where her luxury kennel sat. It was empty. Dust lay thick on every surface and Jisung felt naive for assuming she would still be alive.

He walked up the garden path, which was already a mess of red plastic cups, empty beer bottles and the occasional piece of clothing. He stepped over a girl passed out by the door. Maybe the party had been going on longer than Jisung had realised.

Deaun herself answered the door when he knocked. Jisung froze. She was wearing a silver cocktail dress with impossibly sleek and tall heels and Jisung immediately felt underdressed. He stuffed his hand in the pockets of his hoodie embarrassed and nervous.

“Jisungie!” She exclaimed, “I can’t believe you actually came!” She out her campaign glass down on the dresser by the door to hug him. Jisung couldn’t believe he had come either.

“Yeah sorry about last time.” His words were too empty to really be considered an apology. He hesitated before returning her embrace. Her hug no longer felt like home, but she still smelled like the same perfume she had used when they were younger. Maybe she had never changed it. It smelled like his childhood. Jisung wanted to surround himself in it, but at the same time, he felt sick.

“It’s all good, you’re here now.” She let him go and smiled warmly. Jisung had missed her. He said it.

“Oh, Jisung I’ve missed you too.” She hugged him again. “Now come inside and meet everybody.”

She was acting like nothing had happened and Jisung didn’t know how to feel. Half of him was glad, he was never good at apologising. The other half wanted her to scream at him, tell him how unfair he was, for her to treat him how he deserved. He knew she never would, she was too good for that and he hated that he wasn’t.

Jisung took a deep breath and followed her in; the house was warm and noisy, Jisung immediately wanted nothing more than to leave.

He only had to be here for a bit, just long enough, and then he could leave again.

He would go home, tell his parents that he had felt sick and left early. Then he would have basically gotten out of both situations. For now, he could just grit his teeth and bear it.

“That’s Michael, and Jessica, we danced together. Oh, and that’s Sana.” Deaun listed off names that Jisung wouldn’t remember. A few introduced themselves.

“Hi, I’m Jaebeom. You must be Jisung. Deaun’s has said so much about you.”

To be honest, Jisung was very overwhelmed. Everybody seemed to know him, and he knew no one. He guiltily smiled at Deaun. She had spent a lot more time thinking about him than he had of her. She had spoken of him more highly than he deserved.

They continued through the house. Deaun introducing people to him and him sticking to her side.

He felt out of place here. Not because of his clothes anymore. No one here was as elegantly dressed as Deaun, most were just wearing jeans like he was. He felt out of place because he didn’t belong at Deaun side anymore and she was acting like he still deserved that spot. He felt like everyone here should hate him for what he had done, but instead, they acted like he was the perfect younger sibling, like he had done nothing but love Deaun. He wondered if any of them knew the truth, or if Deaun had kept that to herself. She shouldn’t have lied for him.

“Aww, he’s so cute.” A girl pinched his cheek, and Deaun laughed. Jisung blushed and the girl cooed.

“I know, you should have seen him when he was younger.” Deaun laughed and pulled out her phone to find a photo of him to show to her friend.

Jisung didn’t want to think about their past it just reminded him of how he had run. He excused himself, with the excuse of getting himself a drink from the kitchen, he just needed to get out the conversation. Deaun pouted but let him go.

It was as large, brightly lit, and expensive-looking as he remembered. Although the countertops had changed from marble and white to a shiny black. Jisung pretended that the change didn’t bother him. He didn’t have the right to miss something he had left behind. An older boy with striking silver hair was leaning against the humongous fridge but moved when he saw Jisung approaching.

“Thanks” He muttered. He opened it and looked inside, packets of expensive snacks lined the shelves, Jisung hated that he could still remember their taste. The boy stared at the back of his head before finally speaking.

“Wait? You’re Chan’s Jisung!” The silver-haired boy laughed.

“What?” Jisung asked confused, he turned to face him a beer bottle in hand. He was too young to drink, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him.

“When everybody was talking about Deaun’s little brother Jisung,” Jisung frowned at that. “It never occurred to me that you’d also be Chan’s Jisung”

His words didn’t clear anything up and Jisung was still confused.

The silver boy put his hand out. “I’m Bambam”

“Chan’s Bambam?” Jisung shook his hand, laughing a little bit. “Chan talks about you all the time.”

“You too” Bambam laughed again and Jisung smiled.

“I’ve heard some of your songs, they’re really good.”

“Thank you” Jisung muttered, his ears felt warm.

They talked for a while. It was nice finally meeting Chan’s old friend. Jisung liked having a face to put with the name.

“Chan misses you.” Jisung blurted out. He flung his hand across his mouth. He only realised too late that he was being overdramatic. Maybe he had picked the habit up from Hyunjin.

Bambam smiled sadly.

“Yeah, I miss him too.”

There was a long pause where Bambam reminisced and Jisung tried not to look awkward. He didn’t want to reminisce here.

Finally, Bambam spoke,

“Does he still do that thing where he starts laughing before he’s started telling the joke?”

Jisung said yes even though he didn’t know. It was nice, he thought, to pretend that some things hadn’t changed. He wished he still could.

Bambam reached out and ruffled his hair. Jisung felt like a little sibling again. He had always thought of Deaun as an older sister so he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Deaun suddenly appeared in the door and Jisung felt his whole body tense. She smiled with brilliant white teeth and both Jisung and Bambam couldn’t help but smile back. She had always been so beautiful, Jisung should have known that he would never compete.

“Jisung! This is Bambam.” The fact that they had already very clearly met was the only sign of how many times her glass had been refiled.

“Yeah”

“Should you be drinking?” She asked pointing to the beer in his hand, the other hand on her hip.

“Yes,” Jisung said dryly. Drowning their past in alcohol seemed like a good idea to him.

“We were just talking about how we both know Chan” Bambam said, interrupting. He took her glass and refilled it with more expensive-looking campaign.

“That’s wonderful.” She laughed. It sounded exactly like Jisung remembered. “All of my friends seem to know Chan; you’ll have to introduce me one day.”

Jisung was painfully reminded of the way Chan had trapped him and Minho into the same friend group. This felt a little like de ja vu and he wasn’t about to fall for it again.

“What do you mean all your friends.” Bambam scoffed playfully. “I can count four, me, Jisung, Brian and Jaebum. But they don’t know him well so I’m not sure if they count.”

Deaun pouted. “and Minho”

Jisung froze. It couldn’t be _that_ Minho, right?

“Alright that’s five, are you saying that you only have five friends. I’ll answer that myself. No, you don’t you have like a thousand.”

Bambam’s voice became background noise. All Jisung could hear was Minho’s name repeated over and over in his head.

_Please don’t be here. I’m already drowning in my past, please don’t make me also fight my present._

He was being dramatic. Minho was a common name and Jisung was pretty sure that he had only moved into the district a couple of years ago. At least that’s how Changbin made it sound when he let little snippets of Minho’s life slip.

Anyway, it was common knowledge that Minho was not exactly rich, and despised school mates for the way they flaunted their money. Deaun, well Deaun was as rich as the décor of the house suggested. They were from different crowds; Jisung was being paranoid.

Deaun’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Jisung, do you know Minho.”

The hope Jisung had fooled himself into believing came crashing down and Jisung was left facing the unlikely reality.

_Minho couldn’t be here._

“Yes,” Jisung said slowly because he didn’t want to lie to Deaun, and she would know if he did anyway. She always had.

“That’s wonderful! Come on I’ll show you where he is.”

Jisung drained his drink before allowing her to drag him through the house. He didn’t hold his alcohol well, and usually, he would only have one or two, maybe more when he was with people who knew him well. Sober Jisung was a lot to deal with at first, drunk Jisung was too much for a lot of people. He grabbed another one anyway. If he was going to spend a night alone with Minho and his past, he would need more.

He wasn’t going to hurt her again. He would deal with his present for tonight.

Minho was in the living room watching a group of people play just dance but not joining in.

It was ridiculous how many people were here. If Jisung hadn’t known Deaun for as long as he had, he would find it impossible to believe that she could know this many people.

“Minho!” Deaun called and Jisung’s last chance to escape unnoticed disappeared. Minho looked up smiling, then he saw Jisung and his expression froze.

“You know Jisung right?”

Jisung held his breath, it would be hopeful to assume that Minho would be able to read his expression.

“I do,” Minho’s voice was smooth and unreadable. He turned to Jisung, “Hey.”

Good, they were on the same page. Neither wanted to upset Deaun by fighting here. They would just pretend they didn’t hate each other until she left them alone when they could part ways and pretend nothing had happened. It was what they were used to by now anyway.  
“Excellent. Well, I’m going to get another drink.” She waved around her already empty glass. Her nails, which were painted silver to match her dress, glinted in the light of the tv. “You boys want anything?”

Jisung shook his head pointing at the beer he had just grabbed. Minho gestured to the red cup on the table next to him.

Deaun pinched his cheek on the way out, an old habit that no longer felt familiar. Out the corner of his eye, Jisung saw Minho smirk amused and lift a hard to say goodbye. Jisung didn’t like how his cheeks had warmed. He decided that blaming it on Deaun’s affectionate touch was much simpler than admitting that it may have been the older boy’s reaction that caused it.

“Aren’t you underage?” Minho sneered once she left. Jisung couldn’t tell if he was being playful or just mean, so he didn’t reply. Instead, he looked directly onto Minho’s eyes and took a gulp. Minho laughed and Jisung smiled shyly into the bottle. He hadn’t made Minho laugh before.

“We’re going to pretend to get along, right?” Minho asked quietly and Jisung nodded. “If we fight it will upset Deaun. I hate it when she’s sad.” Jisung always got surprised when he was reminded that Minho did care about people, just not him.

“I already have,” Jisung said quietly. If Minho heard, he was polite enough to pretend he hadn’t.

Neither of them said anything for a while. They just sat awkwardly pretending that the other's company didn’t make them uncomfortable. Jisung looked around the room, at anything other than the boy next to him. His gaze fell on the group playing just dance.

“Why aren’t you playing, I know your good at dancing?” He hadn’t meant to compliment Minho. Neither of them mentioned it.

“You don’t have to be a good dancer to be good at just dance. All you have to do is move the remote to the right spots. It doesn’t take much skill.”

“That explains why Seungmin is so good at it.” They both laughed.

“Why aren’t you doing the karaoke then? I know you can sing” Minho asked gently nudging Jisung with his elbow. The action felt like something a friend would do.

“I’m alright. To be honest I didn’t know karaoke was happening.” He admitted. Neither of them mentioned that Minho had complimented Jisung too.

Minho turned back to watch the dancers again. Jisung didn’t miss the way his eyes flicked to the remote when the players swapped.

“Go on. I know you want to.” He mimicked Minho’s earlier elbow nudge.

“And leave you by yourself?” Minho asked, tilting his head to the side and smirked.

Jisung assumed he was being sarcastic, but he answered honestly just in case.

“I’ll watch.”

Minho nodded but still didn’t ask to join in when the next song ended. Jisung cheered for the winner then turned to Minho, almost exasperated.

“What? Are you shy?”

Minho didn’t say anything.

“Jesus. I thought you were badass.”

The filter between Jisung’s brain and mouth seemed to have dissolved with the alcohol; there was no way he would have said that to Minho when he was sober. Then again there was no way they would have hung out sober.

Jisung bit his lip, he couldn’t tell when Minho’s patience for him would run out, but Minho only playfully punched his arm.

“I am badass, I could beat you up right here!”

Jisung didn’t doubt it. Luckily, Minho was only joking. They both knew a fight would not only ruin the party but would also leave Deaun distraught, so Jisung was safe.

Jisung smirked at Minho before clearing his throat. Minho shook his head, meeting Jisung’s gaze with wide eyes.

“Hey, guys,”

The players, who were handing over remotes turned to look at Jisung and Minho groaned.

“Don’t do it Jisung.”

“You know you want to,” Jisung whispered back, before raising his voice back up to address the group.

“My friends want to play too, is that ok.”

One of the girls nodded happily and held out her remote for him to take. Minho sighed but he was smiling.

“You’re welcome” Jisung grinned as Minho was pulled up to play. Jisung pretended that he didn’t like the way that Minho glared at him. It felt like they were friends. Maybe if Minho didn’t hate him, they would have been.

Minho might have been lying when he said that just dance had nothing to do with actually being a good dancer because he was smashing it. After a few rounds he grabbed Jisung’s hand and dragged him up off the couch.

“Payback” His whispered into Jisung’s ear. His hand lingered on Jisung’s a moment too long for it to be casual. Jisung felt his cheeks heat up. He blamed it on the alcohol, the temperature of the room, the excitement of the party.

“Oh, you’re on!” He whispered back slightly louder. He didn’t have much faith that he could beat Minho, it didn’t matter though, as long as Minho thought he might. Jisung pointed the Wii remote at him.

“You’re going down.”

The girl who had been playing before him laughed.

Minho, was in fact, not going down. As hard as Jisung tried Minho was just better.

“Bullshit being good at dancing doesn’t help!” Jisung said between breaths.

“Maybe I’m just better than you at both.” Minho laughed and Jisung playfully punched his arm.

“I guess I just have to beat you at karaoke then.”

Minho handed the remote to the boy who was waiting on the couch. He beat Jisung too. As did the girl and both her friends. Jisung was determined though and didn’t let the countless beatings deter him.

After a lot more alcohol and quite a few more games, Jisung finally won. Every muscle in his body ached but his excitement wasn’t deterred.

In a moment of pure happiness, all precaution went out the window. Jisung forgot he was at Deaun’s. He forgot about his past. He forgot about hating Minho. All that existed was this room, his victory, the cheers, and Minho’s grin.

So, when Minho, who had been cheering him on, jumped out his seat and pulled Jisung into a hug, Jisung hugged him back with no hesitation. It was hard to pretend that it didn’t feel natural. Minho smelt like peaches.

“Minho, I won!” He said into Minho’s neck.

“I know!”

Neither wanted to let go yet.

“This is just an act, right?” Minho asked quietly, his arms still around Jisung’s shoulders.

“Yeah, just an act.”

“Remember I hate you.”

“I know.”

Minho still hadn’t let go, so Jisung slid his arms out from beneath him.

“Just an act” He repeated to himself quietly. Neither of them mentioned the fact that they hadn’t seen Deaun since she left more than an hour ago. Neither admitted that they had enjoyed each other’s company. That was the kind of secret you kept from yourself.

_They didn’t have to pretend, maybe they just wanted to._

Minho sat on the couch by himself. The party raged around him. A couple made out on the armchair beside him, he was doing his best to ignore them. A group of boys had found a wooden board and were using it to surf down the stairs. People were laughing, screaming, and getting incredibly drunk and in the middle of it all was Jisung.

Jisung.

Jisung who Minho couldn’t bring himself to hate. Not tonight. It’s just for Deaun. Minho pretended that he couldn’t remember how he held onto Jisung when they hugged. He pretended that he had wanted to let go.

_This is just an act, right?_

_Yeah, just an act._

Minho pretended that he hadn’t seen the way Jisung’s eyes had dropped to the ground. Minho pretended that his hadn’t too.

As soon as Jisung had let him go he had drowned the rest of his drink. Minho thought he might have just been looking for an excuse to leave and honestly, Minho couldn’t blame him.

“I’m going to get another drink. You want one?” Jisung asked, not meeting his eyes.

“No thanks,” Minho said because that was the answer Jisung wanted. Minho watched him leave, half thankful and half regretful. Jisung didn’t return and Minho pretended that he wasn’t disappointed.

Minho couldn’t help but watch as Jisung managed to get himself roped into a game of spin the bottle. They sat on the floor where they had previously been dancing. He himself had been asked to join and had politely declined. He ignored the part of his brain that now regretted saying no. He watched Jisung’s lips kiss the girls, in the awkward closed mouth middle school kind of way and pretended that he was jealous because _she_ was pretty.

He pretended that he didn’t see Jisung look directly at him afterwards, his ears pink.

He drained his glass because pretending was getting hard.

_He was supposed to hate Han._

_He hated that Jisung made him confused like this._

Jisung was drunk.

He was drunk enough that he had tried going down the stairs on the board.

He was drunk enough to agree to playing spin the bottle.

He was drunk enough to look at Minho as he did so.

He wasn’t drunk enough for Minho to look back.

_This is just an act, right?_

_Remember I hate you._

He excused himself from the game and went straight to the kitchen. He needed more alcohol to deal with this. He felt Minho’s eyes follow him as he left. The drunk part of his brain liked it.

_Maybe the sober part secretly did too._

Ten minutes passed since Jisung left the living room and Minho hadn’t moved. He stared at the door waiting for him to return. _He’s the only one here I know_. He gladly excepted his own excuse. It was easy to agree to a lie when you wanted to believe the words it spoke.

Jisung was carrying two bottles of beer and it sounded like he had consumed a lot more when he called out Minho’s name. Jisung handed him one of the drinks and threw himself on the couch.

“Eww,” He wrinkled his nose at the couple who were still making out. Despite himself, Minho laughed and Jisung smiled.

It was okay, they still hated each other, they were just drunk. That was all.

Minho certainly wasn’t as drunk as he was making it seem, he had only had one so far and he handled his alcohol much better than a lot of people, but it was easy to pretend. He took a sip of the beer Jisung had brought him. It tasted shit.

Minho didn’t like drinking; he was unpredictable enough as it was, he didn’t need a substance to make him more of a monster.

Jisung grabbed his free hand and linked their fingers. Minho pretended that he didn’t notice.

_It’s just an act._

“How do you know Deaun?” Jisung asked, rested his head on Minho’s shoulder. Without thinking, Minho leant over slightly so his rested-on top of Jisung’s. His hair smelt like apples and vanilla.

“We danced together when I was younger, up to when I was thirteen.” Minho rubbed the back of Jisung’s hand with his thumb.

“You did ballet with her?” Jisung asked surprised, shifting his body so he could look Minho in the face. “I went to so many of her recitals!” His movements were clunky, and his head bumped into Minho’s cheekbone. Jisung didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” Minho replied sadly, “My mum was the instructor.”

Hopefully, Jisung was too drunk to notice his tone.

“And you’re still friends,” Jisung asked. His voice was strangely soft, Minho thought he sounded sad, regretful maybe.

“I don’t know,” Minho answered truthfully, he hadn’t seen her in a long time, but she had invited him to the party so who knew.

Jisung sighed “Yeah me too.”

Neither of them spoke for a bit. They just watched a boy with obnoxiously spiked hair fall of the board and down the stairs.

“I’ve known her forever.” Jisung sighed again. “We grew up together.”

“I remember her talking about you.” Minho laughed remembering little Jisung that Deaun was so fond of. Jisung didn’t laugh, he didn’t say anything.

Minho shifted, uncomfortable and unsure of what he had done wrong.

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut, but when he opened them, he was grinning. It didn’t look genuine, but Minho didn’t know enough about Jisung to make that judgement.

“Let’s go and play karaoke, I bet you can’t beat me.” Jisung jumped up from the couch, stumbling slightly. Minho put his hand on Jisung’s hip to stable him and got up too.

He didn’t know what to do, Jisung was drunk and pretending to be okay. Minho didn’t want to see Jisung cry, and his smile was nice, even if it was false, so Minho just decided to go along with it.

Even drunk, Jisung was a good singer and a better rapper. Minho understood what had made Chan and Changbin so smitten with him. He was a born performer dancing around the room as he sang, grabbing random girls’ hands and making them skip around with him.

Everyone here loved him. A crowd filled the room, and the party became Jisung’s personal concert. At some point, a boy with silver hair screamed,

“Play us one of your’s, Jisung!” and the room filled with cheers.

“Yes!” Deaun clapped her hands in delight and Jisung’s phone was handed over to be connected to the speakers.

Minho didn’t even flinch when the opening bars of _I See_ played.

Maybe it just made sense.

Maybe he had always known.

Maybe he was so far in denial, that he hadn’t realised that he had already figured it out. I See was so clearly Jisung’s song and him performing it in person made it even more obvious.

Maybe it was too hard to admit that the song he had so strongly connected to, the one that had provided him with the burst of inspiration, made him love to dance again, made him so happy, maybe it was hard to admit that it was written by someone he hated.

Tomorrow Jisung probably wouldn’t remember this. He would go on with his life assuming that Minho had no idea, and Minho would pretend he was correct.

But for now, Minho would just enjoy the way Jisung smiled at him while he sang.

Jisung was stunning, the light from the TV lighting up the shimmer of sweat along his cheekbones, and if Minho didn’t hate him, Minho might have liked him. Liked him, liked him.

The room was quiet as he sang this time. The cheers died down into a sympathetic and awestruck silence.

_“I’m finding oasis in the desert_   
_I’m looking for hope in the dark_   
_And I can't seem to see anything_   
_I must find it, I'm still looking for it_   
_Though I know I won't ever catch it_   
_Because I left the light of you in the past_   
_my memory of you is too bright, so I stretch out my hand to cover my eyes_   
_Both my eyes are closed again and I’ve lost you._

_I’m scared of losing your memory_   
_it’s all I have left, I cut the ties_   
_the thread between me and you has been severed, I arm the jealousy that parted us_   
_I live everyday hands tied, I’ll keep walking the streets looking at my two feet_   
_They ran away from you, and they carry the guilt I bear_   
_I don’t want to take a rest_   
_I don’t want to except the forgiveness they’ve gifted me._   
_I struggle to continue without you, you struggled because of me_   
_My home that was once with you has been burned_   
_But I still dream of the return_   
_I can’t help but wish one day I’ll be back home._

_The mirage that I saw_   
_Seemed to be a fairy tale that would never exist_   
_An impossible future, I wish for so dearly_   
_Where I became successful, because you loved me_   
_I can’t help but have divided reactions to this mirage._   
_Half to half to half and to half of it_   
_l smile at the idea and cry with the impossibility_   
_Without you the world became so lonely_   
_Since when was the world so lonely_   
_But this mirage of you_   
_I see”_

Deaun brought her hand to lips as Jisung rapped with so much sorrow that it seemed like the room was drowning in it.

Minho had always known that the lyrics were sad, but Jisung made them devastating. Deaun had tears in her eyes and Minho realised that she might know a lot more about this song than he did.

Jisung finished the song on his knees, almost the same way that Minho had when he had first danced to it. He was looking down at the floor and a stunned silence filled the room. No one spoke as Jisung tilted his head back and took a deep breath.

The door, which someone had shut, swung open and the bright light of the other room outlined the silhouette of the person standing in it. The door crashed against the wall and in the silence drew everybody’s attention.

“What did I miss?” The boy asked stepping into the room and taking in the silence. His face came into focus and Minho saw Jisung freeze.

“Tommy!” Deaun exclaimed. “Oh My God!” She ran over and hugged him tightly.

“Surprise.” Tommy laughed awkwardly. “I got back early.”

Deaun kissed his cheek before letting him go.

So, this was Deaun’s boyfriend.

He reminded Minho of the preppy good boys he always ended up in fights with. He shouldn’t have been surprised that Deaun would date someone like that. He sort of seemed familiar to Minho, although he couldn’t think of where they might have met before.

“Come say hi to Jisung.” Deaun pulled Tommy’s hand to the middle of the room.

“Jisung?” Tommy grinned. “Oh my god!”

Except Jisung wasn’t there anymore.

The spot where Jisung was before, was left empty.

Minho suddenly felt a surge of panic. As Deaun looked around the room confused, and Minho ran to where Jisung’s phone was still connected to the speakers. He pocketed it. Where was he?

Chan would never forgive him if something happened to Jisung while Minho could have been there and helped him. At least that’s what Minho told himself. He didn’t care if Jisung got hurt, he just cared about how it might affect their friend group.

He didn’t care about Han.

It really didn’t take that long for Minho to find him. Jisung has somehow managed to sneak around everybody and get out the door and into the hallway without being noticed. He had tears streaming down his face and was crying with frustration trying to get the front door to open. His drunken hands, fumbled with the handles, unable to spin them together with the synchronisation needed to get it open.

“Where are you going?” Minho asked softly, pulling Jisung’s hands away from the nobs.

“I need to go!” Jisung was frantically scratching at the wood like a caged animal. Minho pulled him away and Jisung fell into his arms. His hands curled around the fabric of Minho’s shirt, tugging Minho towards him.

“I need to go.”

Minho rubbed the back of Jisung’s head and Jisung sobbed into his chest. Footsteps grew closer behind them but neither turned. Jisung must have been incredibly drunk to trust him this much. Minho sighed.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Minho have you seen Ji-, oh.” The female voice echoed in the empty hallway.

Minho turned. Deaun brought her hand to daintily cover her mouth. Always the lady. Her boyfriend, Tommy, stumbled around the corner, freezing when he was the scene in front of him.

“Jisung? Oh god, is he okay?”

Jisung sobbed harder hearing the boy’s voice, Minho narrowed his eyes.

“What the fuck did you do,” Tommy yelled, stepping forwards. Deaun put her arm across his chest to stop him from moving and Minho wrapped his own around Jisung protectively.

“Tommy calm down.” Deaun was scarily calm and Minho shivered with the authority.

“No, I will not, he made Jisung cry!” Tommy stopped moving but his eyes still looked like fire. Minho glared back, knowing he would always win.

“Minho is Jisung’s friend.” Deaun didn’t need to yell to be heard clearly. Tommy shut up and clenched his teeth.

“Do you know why he’s crying?” She asked Minho softly.

Minho shook his head and Jisung nuzzled his head against his chest. He reminded Minho of his cats.

“He’s just had a lot to drink. I’m going to take him home.”

“Like hell, you will!” Tommy growled and Minho physically restrained himself from baring his teeth. Minho didn’t look away as he took one arm off Jisung’s back and went to open the door, but Tommy slammed a hand on the surface, leaning his whole weight against it so it was impossible for Minho to open. Minho glared at him and if Jisung wasn’t here he probably would have punched him.

“How can you trust him?” He asked Deaun angrily. “Haven’t you heard about all the shit that Lee Minho gets into? I can’t believe that Sungie would ever be friends with him!”

“Don’t call him that,” Minho growled. He didn’t know this boy, didn’t know his history with Jisung, but he knew that Tommy didn’t deserve to talk about Jisung with that much endearment.

Deaun slapped Tommy’s chest angrily.

“How can you say that! I’ve known Minho since I was five!”

Tommy laughed darkly.

“You don’t know the Minho my friends do.”

If looks could kill, Minho would like to think that Tommy would be dead. Of course, this boy with his pressed white shirt and Rolex watch would be friends with the people Minho had fought. Maybe that’s why he seemed so familiar.

“Let us go,” Minho demanded.

“No.”

Jisung sobbed louder and Tommy’s eyes softened in worry. Minho rubbed a circle in Jisung’s shoulder with his thumb.

“Oh, Minho there you are.” The silver-haired boy, who had asked Jisung to sing, wandered casually into the hallway. “Wow, is Jisung ok?”

Minho turned his glare to the Silver Hair. Why was he looking for him? If Silver Hair was uncomfortable under Minho’s gaze he was very good at hiding it.

“Bambam, you know this guy?” Tommy asked not taking his eyes from Minho. Silver Hair raised his eyebrows at the aggression in Tommy’s voice.

Of course, he was Chan’s friend.

“Of course, I know Minho.” Bambam scoffed; he was lying. “He’s a great friend of Chan’s, and myself actually.”

Tommy’s glare faltered for a second. Chan’s reputation did wonders.

“Chan’s always going on about how close these two are.” Bambam continued rambling, every word a lie. “Hardly ever seen apart, these two.”

Tommy bit his lip. He was breaking. Minho nodded at Bambam, hoping he understood it to be a thank you.

“Please let us go.” Jisung turned his face so Tommy could see him. Tears streaked down his face and his voice broke as he finally spoke.

Tommy’s entire expression changed. A soft smile took over his face and his arm dropped from the door.

“Are you sure?” He spoke gently as if talking to a very small child. Jisung nodded against Minho’s chest, and Tommy sighed defeated.

He opened the door for them and Minho and Jisung stepped out.

“Thank you.” Minho wrapped his arms tighter around Jisung as he shivered in the cool night air.

“Bye!” Bambam waved; Minho hopped he didn’t tell Chan about any of this. Tommy nodded, still reluctant to see them go.

“Message me when you get home,” Deaun asked, kissing Minho’s cheek goodbye.

“Sure thing.”

The path down the garden felt miles with the three watching in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” Minho asked, adjusting Jisung so they could walk easier.

“No.” Jisung tilted his head so his face was buried in Minho’s neck. “I’m really not.”

“That’s okay.” Minho moved his hand up to rub Jisung’s back. At some point in the night, Jisung had taken off his pink hoodie leaving him wearing only a black tank top. The bare skin of his shoulder was warm and smooth under Minho’s hand.

“I want to go home.” Jisung sobbed into Minho’s neck. His hands had formed fists around the fabric of Minho’s shirt.

“Okay then let’s go.” He attempted to pry Jisung off, but he wasn’t letting go so Minho let him stay attached. Jisung was limp in his arms, Minho was basically carrying him.

Minho’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dark as they stumbled down the path. Jisung pulled his face out of Minho’s neck but didn’t look up from the ground. He hadn’t stopped crying even if he had stood sobbing, tears still flowed down his cheeks. Minho tried not to look stare at the shiny traces they left on his skin. He wanted to reach out and wipe them away, but he thought that might be overstepping his boundaries. Jisung had already trusted him with a lot tonight considering that they hated each other.

Jisung sniffed and slightly pushed Minho away as he attempted to get his hands in his pockets. He pulled out a key and tried to show it to Minho, but he moved it too close to his face and Minho went cross-eyed trying to concentrate on it.

“My bike,” Jisung’s voice slurred, he sounded distressed. “the fence.” He waved the key around in Minho’s face.

“No way.” Minho didn’t mean to sound harsh, but Jisung still shied away.

“I’m sorry but you’re in no condition to get yourself home.” Jisung relaxed back into him as his voice softened. “Come this way, I live nearby.”

They turned right at the end of the drive going straight passed Jisung’s bike. Minho kept his arms around Jisung as they walked and Jisung kept his head rested on his shoulder. Jisung’s eyes were red and puffy, but he still looked up at the stars and Minho could pretend that he was okay.

_At some point, Jisung being okay had become important to Minho and he couldn’t pinpoint when. Tonight had been the first time Jisung hadn’t been okay, and it hurt. Maybe that’s why he finally noticed._

Jisung kept his face in Minho’s neck until they had fully gotten out the house. He didn’t want to see her. He didn’t want to see the house, the garden, the hedges where they used to hide, the places they used to play. He didn’t want to see any of it, because it all looked like his childhood, and it was too much to handle.

Deaun didn’t deserve him. It had been his fault and he hadn’t done anything to fix it. She had been so patient and given him every opportunity to do so and when he had finally excepted, he had run.

She hadn’t asked him to apologise, she didn’t even ask him to explain. She just wanted him back, and he wanted to be back. Yet seeing her just made the guilt come flying back. It was easier pretending that it hadn’t been his fault when he didn’t have to see her smiling face and know that he was the reason she had cried.

He knew she had forgiven him, but he hadn’t forgiven himself yet, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would.

And then there was Tommy.

He shouldn’t have been there. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Jisung wasn’t ever supposed to see him again, instead, Tommy has stared at him like he was the most precious thing in the universe and Jisung’s heart broke. It wasn’t fair for Tommy to still love him, not when Jisung was still enamoured.

_He doesn’t love you like that._

A new wave of tears fell with the reminder.

It had been three years and Jisung was still in love with his best friend. Except Tommy wasn’t his best friend anymore, because all that Jisung had done was run and break his heart.

Minho still had his arms around him, and he didn’t really want him to let go, but he needed to get home. His brain was slow with grief and alcohol and he struggled with finding his key. His hands fumbled in his pockets and finding the key became the only thing in his mind.

_I need the key_

_Need the key_

_The key_

_Key_

_Key_

_Key_

His hand closed around the cold metal and he showed it to Minho. His eyes crossed in an attempt to see it but Jisung didn’t care.

“My bike.”

He wanted to get home, away from here. He wanted to lock himself in the bathroom and pretend he didn’t just run away again. He needed to face what he had done, but for now, he was going to run and hide. Minho’s brow furrowed and Jisung waved the key around in his face.

“The fence.”

“No way.”

Jisung pulled away suddenly scared because Minho didn’t have to do much to seem threatening, but Minho’s arm remained gentle and his eyes stayed warm. When he spoke again his voice had softened and Jisung melted back into his body.

“I’m sorry but you’re in no condition to get yourself home.” Minho excepted Jisung’s weight as he leaned on him again. Minho’s voice slurred slightly when he spoke, maybe Jisung could pretend that Minho was drunker than he actually was.

“Come on this way, I live nearby.”

Jisung was drunk and sad, so he let Minho lead him down the road straight past his bike.

Jisung was drunk and sad so he rested his head on Minho’s shoulder and silently cried up at the stars.

He was drunk and sad, so he let Minho take off his shoes and put him in his bed.

He was drunk and sad, so he held on to Minho’s arms as he tried to pull away. He let his fingers linger on Minho’s skin as he let his grip slide.

_Thank you._

Minho smiled sadly as he left and Jisung cried himself to sleep.

_I’m so sorry._

_Why couldn’t he say it to their faces?_

Minho dreamt of Jisung.

He dreamt that Jisung was inside the school dance studio, curled in a ball on the floor. He was wearing the same pink hoodie he had worn to the party, but it was soaking wet and clung to his skin.

Minho was watching him through the window, hesitant to enter. When heard Jisung sob he threw open the door and ran forwards to reach him, but only the drenched hoodie remained. He picked it up; it was ice cold. He held it to his chest and let the cold spread through his bones.

Jisung’s sobs continued to fill the room and when Minho looked up into the mirror, he could still see Jisung’s reflection, curled up on the floor. Minho dropped the hoodie and ran to the mirror, except it wasn’t a mirror. A glass pane separated two symmetrical rooms, the one with Minho in it and the other with Jisung inside. The palms of his hands pressed against the glass desperate to push through.

“NO!” Minho tried to scream, but his voice crumbled apart in his mouth.

He smashed his fist against the glass. Again, and again and again, until it smashed, but all that was behind it was the wall. The glass had turned back into a mirror taking Jisung with it.

His hand was bleeding, and he was crying, but his tears were also made of blood. They filled the studio until he was drowning in it. His lungs filled with his own blood. He tried to grab onto Jisung’s hoodie, but it too sunk below the liquid. He couldn’t breathe and all he could think about was Jisung’s broken form stuck in the reflection.

Minho woke up gasping for breath and clawing and the blankets on the couch. He stumbled to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. Water did nothing to wash away the imaginary metallic taste the blood had been left behind.

So much had changed in one night.

Jisung woke up in an unfamiliar and empty feeling room. The quilts were warm, and the outside air was cold, but he couldn’t relax again once he woke. It must have been around five in the morning and he could have quite easily fallen asleep again, apart from this was Minho’s room.

He carefully climbed out of the bed and was relieved to find he was still fully dressed. He pulled on his shoes and looked quickly around the room. Jisung felt nosey looking into Minho’s stuff, but curiosity got the better of him.

Old dance trophies sat next to newer ones along the shelf. A thin layer of dust covered them and Jisung was careful not to touch any of them and leave fingerprints in the dust. A photo of young Minho grinning from ear to ear clutching a huge trophy surrounded by other children was framed and placed in amounts the awards. Jisung couldn’t help but smile back.

It was still a little dark outside and Minho was still fast asleep on the couch in the living room. Jisung felt like an intruder seeing Minho curled up and holding the edge of the blanket to his chest. Jisung almost thought he looked cute but reminded himself of who he was and didn’t.

_It’s just an act, right?_

_Yeah, just an act._

Why did Minho have to bring him home? It would have been so much easier for him to pretend he hadn’t enjoyed the other's company if he didn’t wake up at Minho’s house. Didn’t Minho hate him? Couldn’t he have left Jisung crying and drunk to find his own way home? Couldn’t he have not cared?

_It was just an act._

The outside air was cold bit Jisung’s bare arms. He remembered wearing his hoodie yesterday but couldn’t remember when he had taken it off. He hoped it wasn’t still at Minho’s, it would be a lot harder to pretend none of this had happened if the hoodie remained as evidence. He wouldn’t be able to wear it again without remembering Minho’s arms around him as they walked. He wouldn’t ever be able to wear to school; it would just remind them both of how Jisung had cried and how Minho had cared.

If it was at Deaun’s, maybe that would be best. He knew he would have to face her again and apologise, explain. He would never ask her to forgive him, she probably would anyway, but he didn’t deserve it.

Maybe leaving his hoodie at hers, would make him see her sooner. But not today. He would probably end up putting it off his entire life. The conversation on his phone would remain one-sided.

He had luckily drunkenly put the key back in his pocket and retrieved the bike easily. Deaun’s house was still a mess, but thanks to the early hour, was dead quiet. The sun had risen more, and the sky was flooded red and pink.

Jisung watched the sky, not looking at the familiar roads. Every turn and bend felt like a reminder that he was still running, retracing the same path he had years ago.

He didn’t realise he was crying again until he was in a ball back in his own bed. Maybe he would just stay there for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it?  
> I'm a bit worried that this chapter feels a bit forced, that they're too comfortable with each other compared to how they have been. I don't have anyone that I know IRL that I would be comfortable with reading and helping edit this, so I think that I end up overthinking plot points.  
> I just want to mention that I did edit this a bit, but I just didn't really have the energy to do a super good job, it's kinda long and I got bored. 
> 
> In other news my job went back yesterday, which is good because it means I get money, but bad because it means I have less time to write :(


	18. Chapter 18 (They say that you’re a monster)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sick now and it's a problem. Not corona, but an ear ache.  
> Also thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter. It really helped with my confidence in it. Hopefully this chapter lives up to your expectations.

Jisung came into school on Monday with all the colours of shame and denial painted across his face. He looked innocent and broken in all the ways Minho would have never expected. Jisung had trusted him with information he didn’t want shared and it was clear he expected Minho to betray him.

He didn’t come over and greet their friends like he usually would, and instead made a bee line for the studios as soon as he saw Minho.

Minho put his hand into his pocket and felt Jisung’s phone beside his own. He needed to return it, but how was he supposed to when Jisung was so clearly avoiding him?

He didn’t know if he wanted Jisung to remember their time at Deaun’s because Minho had fun and he didn’t want to admit it. Because Jisung had been forced to remember something he would rather forget. Because Jisung had cried and Minho had cared.

If Jisung forgot it meant that Minho could continue pretending to hate him. It meant that he couldn’t remember the pain he went through. It meant he didn’t remember performing I See and the look of despair on Deaun’s face. It meant that he had woken up in Minho’s bed with no recollection of how he’d gotten there.

If Jisung remembered, then it was likely that he would pretend it never happened.

Still, Minho had Jisung’s phone, and with it, Minho couldn’t just pretend to not care.

Maybe without it, it would still be hard to not care.

It was weird to be seeking out Jisung, but Minho couldn’t shake the picture of the broken boy he had comforted and the protective part of him took over.

He could still feel Jisung’s touch on his wrist, begging him to stay as Minho tucked the covers of his own bed around him. Jisung’s tears were still wet on his cheeks and Minho couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Stay.” Jisung had whispered weakly and Minho almost agreed.

But Minho didn’t, and the next morning he awoke to an empty house the only sign of Jisung ever having been there was his phone still residing in his pocket.

It has sat there all morning, all through Minho’s shift at the petrol station and now at school, it impossible to pretend that nothing had happened.

“I’m going to the dance studio early,” Minho told his friends, handing Felix the bookbag he had been holding for him.

“That’s a good idea, I’ll come too.” Felix nodded happily completely missing the glare Minho shot him. Hyunjin saw it though and elbowed Felix in the ribs. The unspoken connection between the two was once again obvious as Felix picked up on Hyunjin’s message, no words exchanged.

“Never mind, I forgot that I need to….. um… do something. What was it I had to do Hyunjin?” Felix turned to Hyunjin who widened his eyes and looked around quickly.

“Go to the kitchens?” Hyunjin suggested uncertainly. Felix grinned and turned back to Minho.

“Yes, that’s right, I need to go to the kitchens. Have fun, we’ll see you in a bit.”

Minho nodded and couldn’t help but smile.

“Come on Hyunjin, to the kitchens!” Felix linked their arms and dragged Hyunjin away, Hyunjin rolled his eyes and waved goodbye. Minho giggled as Felix attempted to get Hyunjin to skip. They were idiots, but he was glad they had avoided making him feel guilty. Minho wanted to be alone and they understood and left him without him needing to be rude.

“I’m going to the dance studio.” He repeated to Changbin in case the others hadn’t been listening to their conversation. Changbin just nodded, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for Minho to dance early in the morning.

Chan looked up curiously. It may not have been unusual for him to leave, but it was for him to announce it. Sometimes Minho hated how observant Chan was.

He felt Chan’s eyes follow him until he rounded the corner and was out of his line of sight. The phone in his pocket felt heavy.

The walk to the arts wing felt like it took an eternity, yet as he passed the entrance to the dance studios, he realised he was nowhere near prepared. He could see the outline of Jisung’s back, silhouetted by the light of the computer.

“Jesus Christ,” Minho swore before taking a deep breath and turning the handle.

Jisung didn’t notice him at first, his bright red headphones disguising any noise Minho had made. Minho cleared his throat awkwardly. Jisung didn’t respond.

“Hi?”

Nothing.

Minho sighed.

“JISUNG!”

Jisung turned down the volume but didn’t take the headphones off or turn around.

“Not now Chan. I’m not in the mood, I’ll do it later.” His voice held none of his characteristic energy that his friends had fallen in love with. Minho missed it.

“It’s not Chan,” Minho responded rubbing his palm against the thigh of his jean. A nervous habit, that was a whole lot better than picking at his skin like he used to.

The muscles in Jisung’s back tensed and he slowly rotated the chair until he was facing Minho.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was defensive and dangerously calm.

“Don’t run please.” Minho put his hand over the door, but Jisung made no attempt to get up.

“That’s not what I asked. Answer the question.”

Minho stepped back and bumped into the desk behind him. This was a different side to Jisung. Aggression poured from him and anger burned in his eyes. He was nothing like the Jisung Minho had grown to expect.

“Okay, okay!” Minho put his hands up in surrender and Jisung relaxed back into his chair slightly.

“You left this at my house.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Jisung’s phone. Jisung, who had flinched at his words, snatched it back. He pressed the home button, but the screen didn’t turn on.

“It’s flat.” Minho offered helpfully.

“I can see that.” Jisung snapped and put the phone away in his own pocket. “Um... Was my hoodie there too?” He looked up shyly, a complete contrast to a moment before.

Minho shook his head.

“You weren’t wearing it when I took you home.”

“Can you stop saying that?” Jisung sounded annoyed.

“What?”

“Nothing. I thought that might be the case.” Jisung tilted his head back and sighed.

“What?” Minho repeated. Nothing Jisung was saying was making any sense.

“I thought I might have taken it off after he arrived,” Jisung explained but Minho still didn’t get it.

“Who?”

“Tommy.” Jisung snapped.

“Oh, that asshole.” Minho scoffed and if looks could kill he would be dead with the glare Jisung sent his way.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Jisung growled and Minho recoiled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Minho would have backed up, but he was already pressed against the wall.

“You don’t know him so keep his name out your mouth.” Jisung leaned forwards in his chair and Minho had never felt so small.

“I said I’m sorry.” Minho snapped back and Jisung’s eyes widened.

They were both silent for a while.

“He didn’t want me there anyway.” Jisung laughed in an unhinged sort of way head tilted back to look at the roof.

“Who?”

“Tommy.”

Minho frowned.

“What do you mean, he seemed pretty excited to see you?”

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckled darkly, and Minho was almost scared of him, “well he shouldn’t have been.”

“Why?” Minho asked unable to contain his curiosity.

“He should hate me for what I did. I would hate him if he were me.” Jisung smiled but his eyes held years of pain and anger. Minho thought Jisung looked a bit like himself in this moment.

“What did you do?”

Jisung looked Minho up and down, taking in his ripped black jeans and leather jacket over his white school shirt. The jeans and the jacket weren’t uniform, but no one had called him out for it yet.

“You’re not the only one who’s broken.”

Minho furrowed his brow but decided against commenting.

Jisung put his headphones on again, signifying that Minho should leave.

“I’m not going yet.” Minho tapped Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung glared at him and took the headphones off.

“Why not?”

“Because I want to know the answers to some questions I have.” Minho knew he sounded cocky as he sat up on the desk. The thing was he didn’t really care.

Jisung didn’t say anything so Minho kept talking.

“First, why did Tommy coming mean you had to take your hoodie off?”

Jisung shrugged.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

Minho held back a sigh.

“Ok then, how much do you remember?”

“More than I want to.”

Minho bit the inside of his cheek. Why couldn’t Jisung just give him straight answers?

“Fine then, why were you crying?’

Jisung sighed and grabbed his headphones back up off the desk.

“Can’t you just forget it?”

“What, are you just gonna pretend that nothing happened?” Minho finally snapped.

Jisung didn’t recoil like Minho expected him to.

“Yeah, I kinda planned on it.” He laughed bitterly and Minho’s heart dropped.

“Don’t you think I deserve to know what I’ve gotten into?”

“What you’ve gotten into?!” Jisung let out a barking laugh like he couldn’t believe it. “This has nothing to do with you Minho. You were at the wrong place at the wrong time, none of this,” He gestured to himself, “is any of your business.”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s wrist.

“What if I made it mine?”

Jisung glared at him with so much fire that for the first time Minho was afraid of him.

“Maybe you should deal with your own shit before getting involved with mine.” He pulled his wrist out of Minho’s grip.

It was a low blow and they both knew it. Jisung didn’t know the extent of Minho’s pain and Minho didn’t know Jisung’s.

“Excuse me?”

Jisung smirked dangerously.

“Don’t you hear what people say about you Minho?”

Minho breathed in sharply.

“They say that you’re a monster. They say you don’t have a heart. You know I feel sorry for you, I don’t know what happened in your life to make you so fucked up.”

Minho clenched and unclenched his fist.

“Maybe what they say is true.” Jisung continued. “I heard rumours that your dad killed your mum in a car crash. At first, I didn’t believe it, with you anything could be possible. Honestly, it would explain a lot.”

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Minho whispered angrily. He could hear his blood pumping in his ears and all he could see was red.

“Yeah well, I did.” Jisung was so unafraid. He leaned back in his chair lazily. His words were the gun and his tongue the trigger.

“You shouldn’t fucking talk about things you know nothing about,” Minho growled, walking forwards off the wall, cornering Jisung.

“You know, I almost thought you were actually okay, that there was a possibility of us being friends, but it turns out your exactly like everybody else. You’re a son of a rich man, who will inherent wealth and will never have to work to get anything.”

“I’m not rich.” Jisung interrupted and Minho almost cried in frustration.

“Jisung you don’t know what it’s like to have to fight every day just to make sure you get fed. You don’t know what it’s like to get up at three in the morning so that you can go to work before school.”

Jisung opened his mouth to speak, but Minho cut him off.

“You think that you’re not rich because you're friends with people like Deaun. You stand near the top of the staircase looking at the steps in front of you thinking how far up it looks compared where you are. If you just turned around, you’ll see how far the bottom actual is and how close you are to the top.

He had walked forwards until he had a hand resting on either one of the armrests on Jisung’s chair, his body caging Jisung in the seat.

“I came to see if you were okay because for some reason I actually cared. That was a mistake on my part. Maybe I should have learned not to second guess my first impressions because it turns out I’m usually fucking right.”

Minho didn’t know what he would have done to Jisung if Jeongin didn’t open the door right then, Minho still trapping Jisung in the chair. Minho stood up sharply and tried to wipe the anger from his face. Jeongin didn’t deserve to see that.

“Uhh, are you guys ok.” Jeongin’s hand didn’t leave the door handle as if he was preparing for a quick getaway.

“Yes,” Minho replied coldly.

“Yeah, we fine Innie.”

“I thought you had gone to the dance studios early?” Jeongin asked, suspiciously eyeing the dents in the padding on the arms of Jisung’s chair where Minho had been gripping it.

“I was, I had to return Jisung’s phone first.” The truth slipped out before Minho could think to lie.

Jeongin giggled nervously.

“Why did you have his phone?”

Minho opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“I- “

“I dropped it on the way here. Hyung picked it up for me.” Jisung interrupted saving Minho from complicating the situation more. Minho’s heart clenched with the use of honorifics. It felt wrong.

“Okaayyyy.” Jeongin raised his eyebrows. He was going to interpret this wrong and Minho knew it.

“I came because Chan wanted to know if you needed help now Jisung, or if you were good to leave it until tomorrow?”

“Yeah, tomorrow’s good,” Jisung said quietly, he seemed shaken up. Minho would have felt guilty but the words that had left Jisung’s mouth were inexcusable. “Sorry for making you come for nothing Jeongin.”

“No problem.” Jeongin giggled then pushed past Minho and fully entered the studio.

“What does that do?” He pointed to a random dial on the set up in front of Jisung.

Jisung purposely avoided looking in Minho’s direction as he handed Jeongin his red headphones to demonstrate the use of the dial. Jeongin put them on excitedly and Jisung quickly looked over his shoulder to see Minho still there glaring at him behind Jeongin’s back.

“I’m going now,” Minho said and Jeongin nodded without turning around. “Don’t break Chan’s equipment Jeongin, he’ll kill you. And Jisung,” Jisung turned his head to catch Minho’s eye. “be careful where you leave your stuff.”

Jisung nodded carefully and Minho wondered if Jisung understood the thousands of messages implied by that one line.

_Watch your mouth._

_Don’t talk about stuff you don’t understand._

_Be careful next time you drink because I won’t be there to care for you._

Maybe Minho hadn’t hated Jisung at Deaun’s and maybe he would be brave enough to admit it. But he for sure hated him now.

Whatever they had going for them had been torn to shreds. Minho couldn’t help but mourn the loss of something that could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was watching Titanic and came up with a new fic idea. It's very vague at the moment but its about sailor Jisung and biologist Minho who are on the same exploring expedition. I currently have no plans for it but every now and then I come up with a little line of dialog that would fit it. I don't think it would be a multiple chapter thing, if I actually end up doing anything with it. So yeah that's a thing that might come.


	19. Chapter 19 (We’ve gotten pretty good at pretending)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should comment on the state of the world right now, but I honestly have nothing to say that hasn't already been said.  
> It's been weird here, I hear so much about what's happening in the US because obviously they're a huge influence on Australia both politically and culturally, but it feels detached. The situation feels devastating, heartbreaking and alien, almost as if it isn't really happening and it's just a story that I'm being told.  
> I won't pretend to know everything that going on, because I really don't have a clue. I just wanted to make sure that everybody stays safe and stands up for what you believe in and whats right.  
> I hope that didn't over step my boundaries and I hope my writing can help you escape the madness and horror that's happening in the world.

As soon as Minho left Jisung felt guilty. He knew what he said was out of line, but in the moment all that mattered was that Minho stopped caring.

Jeongin stayed in the studio until the first bell rang and Jisung was bombarded with his endless curiosity. Jisung humoured him while it lasted. No doubt, being friends with Chan, Changbin and himself, who only ever talked about music, would eventually bore him to the subject.

It was hard to keep the smile on his face and Jeongin could see through his cracks.

“Are you sure everything is fine?” Jeongin asked, taking Jisung’s headphones off, “You seem distracted.”

“Yeah,” Jisung sighed “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Is it Minho?” Jeongin asked, trying to sound casual but the eagerness creeping into his voice gave him away.

Jisung didn’t answer, unable to think about a lie that would sound convincing.

“I thought he hated you.” Jeongin put his headphones down on the desk and checked his phone for the time. “Everybody says he does.”

“Yeah,” Jisung sighed again, “He does.”

“That’s a bit rude of him.” Jeongin stood up and grabbed his bag.

Jisung smiled sadly.

“No, it’s not his fault. You better not dislike him for this.” Jisung grabbed Jeongin’s wrist to stop him from leaving.

“I don’t want our…” _Their what?_ “I don’t want to get in between your friendship.”

Jeongin scoffed,

“Bold of you to think I care about hurting your feelings.” But he patted Jisung’s hand in a reassuring way.

Jisung could deal with Minho hating him, but he didn’t want it to interfere with any of his relationships with his friends. His friends were Minho’s friends and he didn’t want anything to change that.

Jeongin sighed loudly,

“Can’t I just stay here for the lesson.”

“Nope,” Jisung said bluntly. “I’m not even in here next, I have business.”

“Lucky!”

Jisung raised his eyebrows at Jeongin. Most people hated business.

“Hyung I have _English_!” Jeongin challenged and Jisung laughed.

Jeongin threw his head back and groaned,

“It’s so dumb, all I did was give the teacher constructive criticism on her task and how she hates me.”

Jisung smirked,

“Jeongin you told her that the assignment was bullshit, and I quote, ‘was almost as pointless as her sex life’.”

Jeongin shrugged unapologetically.

“I wasn’t lying.”

“You deserve to fail for that.” Jisung laughed and packed his headphones safely away in her bag.

“I don’t regret it,” Jeongin said heartlessly.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get detention, let alone a suspension. Failing would be getting off lightly.”

“Eh, she needed to hear it.” Jeongin opened the door but didn’t go out yet.

“You’re so heartless.” Jisung patted his shoulder, grinning.

Jeongin pointed at his mouth,

“When you have this smile you can get away with anything.” He grinned showing off his braces and Jisung rolled his eyes.

“One day those will be taken off and you will have to deal with the consequences of your actions just like everybody else.”

Jeongin smirked,

“You mean running?”

Jisung froze, he was far easier to read than he would have liked.

“You’re a dick, I hope you know that.” He playfully hit Jeongin over the back of the head.

“That’s funny,” Jeongin giggled, “most describe me as an angel.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

The day dragged on and Jisung’s guilt only grew. Jeongin had done the difficult job of distracting him in the morning but as soon as they went off to their separate lessons it all came flooding back.

It hurt, watching his friends wander over to the table, the one they shared, the one that now felt like home, after Jisung had lied and told them that he had work to do before disappearing into the library.

He hoped Minho was okay. He knew the words he spoke were cruel, no matter if they were true or not. Minho had always seemed like others’ words didn’t affect him. He seemed to walk through the sea of rumours and opinions without bother, and maybe that had provided Jisung with a false sense of security, that his words wouldn’t cut quite as deep.

But Minho was only human, and he had every right to react as he did. Everyday Jisung dug further into his own grave, it was only a matter of time before he lay in it.

Jeongin was right, Jisung only ever ran from his problems.

Lunch was quiet without Jisung.

Minho didn’t want him there, but he couldn’t help but miss him. He supposed that was the mentality that came with a lot of things that hurt you. He supposed that was the mentality he had with pain. People crave things that will only end up hurting them. Maybe it was human nature, addiction, and self-induced anguish.

He could still smell the scent of tobacco, lingering in the corners of his memories, the result of his father’s addiction. It had never seemed like a problem when he was younger, and his dad hadn’t stuck around long enough for Minho to witness the aftereffects. Maybe if he had, the danger around smoking would seem more real to Minho, maybe he wouldn’t carry cigarettes around with him.

Another addiction that would hurt him in the end, but for now, felt so good.

Everyone was quiet without Jisung. Minho wasn’t quite aware of the integral role Jisung held within the group. Without him the entire dynamic was thrown off, Minho wondered if they had ever been this effected when he wasn’t there. Probably not.

Hyunjin seemed especially bothered. He didn’t say a word all break, his eyes darting towards the library every couple of seconds as if he would love nothing more than to rush inside and console Jisung. He almost got up once but Seungmin put out a hand to stop him.

“You know he would rather you didn’t,” Seungmin whispered hurriedly. Hyunjin nodded solemnly and sat back down again. His eyes still flickered over to the door, but he didn’t try and get up again.

Minho slumped forwards and rested his cheek on the table. Maybe it would have been best if Minho hadn’t reacted. If he had just taken Jisung’s words, internalised them, pretended they didn’t hurt. Then lunch wouldn’t have been this horrible.

Nothing Jisung had said had been news to Minho, it was all things he had known. He had always known the rumours people spoke of him; it was just easier to pretend he didn’t. They were never the whole truth, sometimes they weren’t true at all, but it’s the ones that were close that hurt the most.

He should have been used to the words now. He shouldn’t have reacted.

Felix tried to tell Chan about the dance and Chan tried to be enthusiastic, but with the lack of energy provided by the rest of the table, the conversation ran dry. Jeongin looked around confused. Minho felt bad for him, he was a savage bastard, but truly was a sweet kid who wanted everyone to get along.

This was all Minho’s fault. He had tried to be someone he wasn’t, and it had failed. He had tried to care, be kind, everything he wasn’t, and it only ended up hurting himself and others more.

The bell went and the group disbanded. Minho walked silently alongside Changbin until they reach the hallway which both their classes were on. Minho stopped Changbin before he could walk through the door.

“Can I come around to yours today?” Minho asked and Changbin nodded.

“Is everything okay?”

It was a fair question, Minho always grumbled when his friends invited him, even though they all knew he was thankful. He didn’t usually ask them places, and never asked to come around to one of their houses.

“Yeah,” Minho wrinkled his nose, “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

That was the way Changbin and Minho helped each other. They distracted from the problems while Chan tried to solve them.

“How about we invite the old crew over and we can have a Mario Cart competition, just the three of us?”

Changbin was emotionally smarter than they gave him credit for. He knew that it wasn’t either of the older boys who Minho had a problem with and instinctively knew what would make Minho feel better, even if it was only a distraction.

“That sounds good.” Minho agreed. “To Chan this is just for fun though, okay?”

“Of course.” Changbin nodded seriously before breaking into a grin. Minho smiled back and ruffled his hair. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Changbin was their original baby before the 00 liners, and then Jeongin stole his spot.

“I’ve always got your back.” Changbin looked directly into Minho’s eyes when he spoke.

“I know.”

Changbin nodded. They stood in the doorway of Changbin’s classroom, blocking anyone from entering or exiting.

“You should go to class.” Changbin scolded because Minho hadn’t moved.

“I know.” Minho snapped back playfully but still didn’t leave.

A girl behind them cleared her throat. They both looked at her and she rolled her eyes, turning her nose up at them like they were scum. Minho smirked and Changbin raised his eyebrows. They made eye contact and without speaking agreed to annoy her even more.

“Get out Minho!” Changbin cried and pushed Minho backwards away from the door so he bumped into the girl. She gasped and dropped the diary she had been holding. Minho let out a bark of laughter and pushed Changbin back.

“I don’t think I will Seo.”

Changbin stumbled and put his hand over his heart.

“Not even first-name basis, wow that hurts Lee.”

Minho laughed and the girl behind them sighed angrily. Minho turned to her.

“Is something the matter?” He said coldly, he didn’t suppose she could tell but his eyes were crinkled with amusement.

“You’re in my way.” She snapped back and Minho had to give her credit for how brave she was being. Normally people would cower in fear, even if he was just messing around.

“Yeah Lee,” Changbin called stepping forwards and pushing Minho out of her way. He held out an arm, gesturing for her to come through.

“How about we settle this after school then.” Minho stepped towards Changbin, using his extra height to tower over the other boy. The threatening quiet venom crept into his voice and if it was anyone other than Changbin he was speaking to they would have shielded away. The entire classes’ eyes were on them, and Minho couldn’t help but give them a bit of a show.

“Why don’t we,” Changbin growled, flexing all the muscles in his arm and back. Changbin’s muscles were all for show, he was stronger than Minho but there was no doubt who was the better fighter. They did the trick, however, and the tension in the room rose.

Minho stepped even closer so there was hardly thirty centimetres between them. Changbin had to look up to meet his eyes and Minho almost laughed right there at the unfortunate height of his friend.

“It’s settled then.” Minho would usually have whispered this, and the theatrics were ruined as he had to say it loud enough that their audience would catch it.

“Boys that’s enough.” Changbin’s teacher called sternly. They both ignored him.

Changbin smirked and Minho grinned back. No one would have been able to see, as their closeness kept their faces covered.

“You’re going down Lee.”

“Place your bets Fucker.”

“Lee Minho, go to your class now!” The teacher snapped and Minho finally stepped back.

“Count your blessings, Seo!” He called over his shoulder as he strolled out the room, much too casual for someone who had just threatened to beat up his friend.

If Changbin had a comeback, Minho didn’t hear it. He wandered back to his own class, not making a point of hurrying.

He had been right to go to Changbin. For a moment he had forgotten about Jisung, and even now, when remembering, he was still in a good mood.

It was easy to make fun of Changbin. His personality clashed with his image, he was funny, he spoke without thinking, but really, he was the most emotionally tuned. He knew what to do to help and when that was something he could do or when it was better to stay out of it. Minho was thankful to have him as a friend.

Minho’s phone buzzed.

_12.40: Everyone’s saying you and Changbin Hyung are going to fight after school, people are making bets._

Jeongin. How did news travel so fast in this school?

Minho sent a message back.

_12.41: Who did you bet for?_

_12.41: You, Changbin Hyung is just a big baby._

_12.41: Right answer_

Minho’s phone buzzed again but this time it wasn’t Jeongin.

_12.42: Minho what the fuck is going on?_

Chan didn’t wait for a reply before ringing. Minho answered with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Hi Hyung.”

“Minho, tell me you aren’t fighting Changbin!” Chan snapped angrily, ignoring Minho’s greeting.

“Who are you placing your bets on?” Minho asked. He was outside his class now, leaning on the lockers, incredibly late, but the teacher hadn’t come out to get him yet, so he had a bit longer.

Chan ignored his question.

“You better be joking, you said you were done with fighting!” In the background Minho could hear Chan’s English teacher telling him to get off the phone so Minho gave in.

“Yeah, we were just messing around, but who do you think would win?”

Chan sighed.

“Thank god, I couldn’t deal with you fighting with Jisung and Changbin. And you’d win, for sure.”

The teacher made eye contact with Minho through the door. Minho just raised his eyebrows at her. She was young and small, probably scared of him too, so she didn’t say anything.

“Are people making bets?”

“Yeah.” Chan sighed and Minho could almost see him roll his eyes through the phone.

“Who’s the money on?”

“You. Mostly. But Changbin’s doing pretty well. Now that summers getting here and he’s been wearing t-shirts people have finally started to notice how buff he’s gotten.”

Minho laughed.

“I kinda feel bad that it’s not actually gonna happen, people seem pretty excited.” Minho paused. “And I want to prove how much of a softie Changbin is, even with his muscles.”

“He’s all bark, no bite.” Chan agreed.

There was a muffled call of ‘Just a sec!’ as Chan covered the mic to call to the teacher.

“Minho, I have to go.”

“Yeah, for sure, one last thing though, Mario Cart? At Changbin’s tonight, just the old crew, only the three of us?” Minho asked speaking quickly as to not get Chan in any more trouble.

Maybe Chan could tell how needed this night was, or maybe he just felt like Mario Cart, even if they all knew he would end up losing, because he agreed without hesitation, then hung up without giving Minho the chance to say anything else.

The teacher didn’t say anything when Minho entered, but the entire class was staring at him. He wondered how many of them had already heard about the rumoured fight, more importantly, he wondered how many of them had their money on him.

As expected, Chan lost almost every round. Changbin one most, occasionally Minho would steal from him, but usually, he got first place.

“I told you, you were going down Lee.” Changbin cackled when he one another game. Minho threw a handful of popcorn at him.

“You were talking about fighting,” Minho complained. “Most people think I would have won anyway.”

“How pissed do you think they’ll be when they figure out we were joking?” Changbin asked lazily leaning back in his chair, Minho’s popcorn littered all over his lap.

“Pissed,” Chan answered, stealing a handful of popcorn, and shoving it in his mouth.

“Really!” Changbin sat up, grinning. Chan rolled his eyes at his excitement.

“Changbin, you ‘fight’ was literally all anyone was talking about for the whole afternoon, I had like eight people come up and ask me who I thought was going to win.” Chan swallowed his popcorn and picked up his controller.

“Who did you say.” Changbin sat up and a wave of popcorn tumbled to the ground.

“Minho,” Chan answered, his mouthful.

Changbin gasped,

“I don’t feel bad about beating you anymore.”

Chan and Changbin started bickering playfully. Minho rolled his eyes but was secretly amused.

Minho had missed it just being the three of them. They were comfortable with each other, they felt like home. He curled up in a ball in the corner of the couch and listened to Chan and Changbin argue. Changbin’s older sister poked her head in the door and waved when she saw Minho.

“Oh, hi Minho.”

They had always gotten along well.

“Hope was talking about your dance the other day, seemed pretty excited about it.”

Minho smiled.

“Thanks.”

She and Hoseok both taught dance to the younger students at Minho’s studio. Hope was her nickname for him, one that had been picked up by many, but one that Minho hadn’t quite felt comfortable to use yet.

“I hope you’ll show me someday.”

“Sure thing.”

She waved by and left.

Chan pouted.

“She only likes you.”

Minho laughed.

“Damn right she does, I’m a delight.”

The evening should have been perfect. Minho could forget about his problems, enjoy his friends’ company, and escape the world and his reality even just for a couple of hours. He should have been able to walk home from Changbin’s with a smile on his face, while he dreaded the idea of tomorrow. He should have, but Jisung ruined it.

His phone buzzed once again as they were eating pizza. It had been going off all afternoon, Minho having received messages from all of his friends asking if he was really going to fight Changbin. He even got one from Deaun, he didn’t know how she could have possibly found out that fast.

The number was unknown, Minho not having Jisung’s contact. They hated each other, there was never a need for them to contact the other.

_20.30: It’s Jisung_

_20.31: I’m sorry for what I said today. You were right I shouldn’t have said that. I just got defensive and wanted to say anything that would make you stop asking questions._

_20.31: You’ve always hated me, right? Well, I guess I’ve only given you more reason to. Tomorrow can we pretend everything is fine? I don’t want Chan to worry. We’ve gotten pretty good at pretending._

_20.32: Thank you for caring about me, it was nice of you, but please don’t. Neither of us need that._

_20.32: And again, I’m sorry._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing I write here will be as important as what I wrote at the begging.  
> Did you notice the parallels between the Mario Cart scene and the first scene of the story? I thought that was kinda cute. Also I know the rumors spread unrealistically fast, but it felt like nothing was really happening that would influence the story over the long run so I needed to speed it up. I hope you got a feel for Minho and Changbins' friendship, I feel like I hadn't explored that before.  
> Anyway I love Jeongin in this and I can't wait for comeback. Minho killed me with the red hair and Hyunjin goes without saying.  
> Ok bye xx


	20. Chapter 20 (It meant leaving everything behind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I've been gone for quite a bit. I literately have no time for anything and smashed it out in a day. It has hardly been edited, but I really don't have enough time to. Please enjoy(?) this piece of trash chapter until I can get something better out.

It would have been so easy for it to end there. Jisung apologised, Minho would still hate him, life would go on as usual.

That’s what Jisung was expecting to happen, as he sat on his bed, typing out the message and listening to his dad pack ready to leave again.

That’s what he thought as he clicked send on the final message and threw his phone across the room to his beanbag, so he didn’t have to look at it anymore.

That’s what he thought when he went to go check if Seungmin had finally messaged about their maths homework.

He wasn’t expecting Minho to reply, and he wished he hadn’t.

_20.45: Don’t worry I don’t think telling Chan is a good idea either. You were right, you shouldn’t have said what you did, and I can’t forgive you yet, but I also can’t stop caring. I don’t understand why, but I felt guilty today, sitting at the table while you were away in the library. I know that it was your fault, but I couldn’t help but feel responsible. So, I guess I still care._

_I won’t ask any more questions if that’s what you want, I don’t like people asking either. So, I can pretend not to care, you were right about that too, we’ve gotten good at pretending, but if you ever just need to talk, I’ll be here to listen._

_I don’t even know why I’m offering._

_And by the way, I didn’t fight Changbin just in case you were wondering._

Jisung froze his hand tight around his phone. He had to be dreaming. For once he hadn’t run and everything was falling apart. When he sent his own message it was only to apologise, to lessen his own guilt. Jisung didn’t want to admit it, but maybe it was also because he regretted hurting Minho, especially when Minho was only caring for him. Jisung didn’t want Minho to care for him.

_And by the way, I didn’t fight Changbin just in case you were wondering._

Jisung might have laughed if he wasn’t so frightened. He had been wondering if the rumours were true, he had doubted they were but there was always the chance and he was too afraid to ask.

To be honest the message scared him. He had belittled Minho, hurt him and Minho’s care hadn’t been diminished. Not even slightly. At least he hadn’t forgiven him, Jisung wouldn’t have been able to stand that. Maybe Deaun could take some notes from him.

There was no one else home and the apartment was dark and empty, Jisung having let the night creep through the windows without turning on any of the lights. He didn’t want to be there. For the first time in years, Jisung wanted to paint. He wanted to run the streets, doing something that was illegal, getting high off the adrenalin. He wanted to haunt himself by reliving memories that were only going to hurt him.

He lay on his back in the middle of the living room, running his fingers through the plush white carpet. There wasn’t really anything stopping him, but he still hesitated. He didn’t have any paint anymore, but it wouldn’t be hard to get more. Jisung knew where to go. Tommy had taught him years ago. His mum wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning as she had a night shift and his dad was fast asleep preparing for an early flight in the morning, there really was nothing left for him in the apartment.

He was being foolish, and he knew it. Maybe he just needed distracting. Maybe he just needed to do something so full of reckless abandon that nothing else could possibly hurt more than the consequences.

He would regret it in the morning but for now, it felt like a good idea. He jumped up and grabbed his house keys from the coffee table. The metal clinked against the glass and Jisung shivered. He was going to do this. Jisung didn’t really want to bring his phone. He didn’t want to think about Minho’s message, but he knew it would be stupid not to.

The summer air was warm and heavy outside. Jisung’s empty backpack was light on his shoulders as he unlocked his bike from the rack. Soon it would be heavy, but for now, he could appreciate the freedom that came without the extra baggage. He ended up bringing his phone, but it was buried at the bottom of his bag. He was supposed to be escaping the situation not consistently reminding himself of it.

There were a few cars around, but the streets were for the most part silent. Jisung road down the middle of the road, his hands outstretched and the night air running through his fingers. He would have liked to close his eyes but that was a risk that wasn’t work taking.

A car beeped at him and Jisung swerved to the sidewalk and put his hand up apologetically. The driver stuck up his middle finger and Jisung stuck out his tongue.

He tipped his head back to look up at the sky where only a few stars were visible. It was a clear night, but the thousands of glittering lights of the town drowned out the majority. The light pollution was one of the reasons Jisung hated the city.

He went to Seungmin’s first, riding the route without much thought. The Kim’s restaurant wasn’t far from the skate shop where he planned to get the paint, and even if Jisung refused he knew Seungmin’s Mum wouldn’t let him leave without handing him at least something to eat.

Jisung was just as well off financially than they were, as Minho said, he would probably be considered wealthy, but that wasn’t really the motivation. The Kim’s knew Jisung could afford to eat well, but they also knew that most of the time no one was home apart from Jisung and that none of the Han’s cooked on a regular basis. Without them, Jisung’s diet would mostly consist of convenience store food and cereal.

Seungmin wasn’t there but as expected his mum loaded him up before waving goodbye.

‘Where is he?” Jisung asked finally excepting the food.

“His baseball training just finished, but I think he was going back to Jeongin’s. You know Jeongin right?” She smiled warmly and Jisung nodded.

“Yeah, Seungmin introduced us. He’s a sweet kid.”

“Indeed, he is.” She laughed lightly, “Now are you sure you’re going to be warm enough?” She rubbed the fabric of his shirt between her fingers, “We don’t want you to get a cold.”

Jisung laughed and pointed at his backpack.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a jumper if it gets cooler.”

Seungmin’s mum nodded and opened the door for him.

“Stay out of trouble Jisung.”

Jisung smirked.

“Who do you think I am Mrs Kim?” He asked feigning innocence. He didn’t know if she could tell if his plans for the night included something that was technically illegal, but her hand hesitated on the nob.

“I know you boys; you’re always getting into mischief.”

“Don’t worry about me. I was just on my way to get art supplies, that’s all.” Technically it was the truth, just told in such a way that painted it in a more law-abiding way.

So, Seungmin wasn’t there to talk him out of it and before long he was in front of the skate shop. The storefront was dark, but Jisung had been there enough times to know that didn’t necessarily mean it was empty. The bell they used to ring had been removed and for a moment Jisung panicked thinking that the store had possibly been sold.

He balanced his bike up against the wall before wrapped his knuckles on the glass door, but no one came down and Jisung’s panic transformed into a real fear. A cat brushed against his leg and Jisung jumped into the air.

“Jesus Christ!” He swore and reached down to rub the cats head. The fat, fluffy white animal looked up at him with doleful eyes and meowed solemnly.

“Minnie, you scared me.” He scolded the cat who blinked once before abandoning him on the sidewalk to jump through the cat flap into the shop.

All was good, the shop hadn’t been sold. There was no way Luis would possibly have left Minnie behind. He loved that cat more than life itself.

“Let me in Minnie,” Jisung whined but the cat didn’t look back. Jisung dropped to the pavement sitting cross-legged in front of the door. Minnie wandered through the shop and the stair light clicked on.

“Luis?” Jisung called out hopefully, getting up of the ground.

“We’re closed, can’t you see.” The older boy grumbled finally coming into view. He scooped Minnie off the ground without looking at the door.

“Luis it’s me,” Jisung called, his heart beating in his throat. What if Luis didn’t recognise him? What if he had left it too late.

Luis looked up. The light from the stairwell illuminated his silhouette, leaving his face in the dark and unreadable. Jisung shifted in his shoes.

“Jisung. Is that you.” Luis dropped Minnie to the ground where she meowed sadly. His voice was muffled through the glass. Jisung nodded.

“Yeah it is, can I come in?”

Luis walked over to the door in a dazed manner. He was still taller than Jisung was, but the difference was notably smaller. Luis had a couple more tattoos and his hair had been dyed a bright red colour.

He unlocked the door and held it open for Jisung to enter, his eyes were wide and confused following Jisung’s movement.

The door had been shut and relocked before either of them spoke again. The inside of the shop had been rearranged, the red couch having moved across the other side of the room, the shelving changed, and the walls painted. It looked good but Jisung was embarrassed that the work he had painted long ago was still on display.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Luis’s voice echoed, bouncing at Jisung from all directions.

Jisung spun around. He hadn’t thought of how his absence might have caused anger. He hadn’t really thought Luis would have cared.

“Three years man, three, and you show up with no explanation!” Luis marched towards him and Jisung shrunk away. He should have thought this through. Of course, Luis was going to be angry. He shouldn’t have come.

Jisung’s back hit the shelf, knocking packets of wheel bearings the floor. The high-pitched clink of them colliding with the polished concrete floor rung through the darkroom. Luis had come close enough for Jisung to notice a new piercing going through his eyebrow and another through his lip.

“Jesus fucking Christ man!” Luis enveloped Jisung in a hug. His arms feeling safe around Jisung’s shoulders. He squeezed Jisung tight before pulling back, hands-on Jisung’s shoulder, getting a good look at him.

Luis was objectively scary and Jisung squirmed under his gaze. His eyes were harsh and calculating, he had tattoos up and down his body, gathering as the years went by. He had more piercings than Jisung could count and dressed like your average delinquent. There was no way that Jisung would have ever approach him by himself, but of course, Tommy had, and of course, Jisung followed.

“You’ve grown so much.” Luis reached out and cupped Jisung’s cheek for a moment before dropping his hand.

Jisung didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought about Luis in a long time, it hadn’t occurred to him that he should feel guilty. When he had run from Deaun and Tommy he hadn’t quite realised how much he had left behind.

“Hi” Jisung finally squeaked and Luis laughed.

“Hi” He repeated, and Jisung smiled awkwardly. An uncomfortable silence grew between the pair. At least Jisung found it uncomfortable. He could hear Luis’s breathing and the sounds of people moving upstairs.

Jisung eyes flickered up to the ceiling.

“You have company?”

Luis nodded.

“They can wait.”

The silence fell again. Minnie wandered between them and sat down in front of Luis’s feet. She meowed loudly breaking Luis out of his trance. He shook his head and stepped backwards.

“I’m sorry that was weird.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jisung laughed awkwardly and Luis grinned, revealing his tongue piercing.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Luis asked gesturing over at the staircase. He smiled hopefully and Jisung’s heart clenched. His immediate reaction was to find an excuse, but his only plans were something that could get him in trouble with the police, so it wasn’t a bad idea to stay.

“Why did you stop coming?” Luis asked leading Jisung over to the couch where he was sat down.

Jisung sighed and slumped against the red leather.

“It’s a long story. It was nothing to do with you though, nothing you did stopped me.” He looked over at Luis and hoped his eyes were as apologetic as he was.

Luis furrowed his eyebrows and scooped Minnie off the floor and into his lap.

“Is everything okay?”

Jisung sighed again.

“Kinda, it wasn’t, it really wasn’t but I guess it’s gotten better.” He ran his fingers through his hair and Minnie gently put her paw on his leg, almost in a comforting way.

“Oh.” Luis breathed out. “I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jisung shook his head.

“Not really. I would really like to pretend it never happened.” But Luis deserved to know at least a little. “I ran from something that was hurting me and it meant leaving everything behind.” Jisung tried to ignore the way his voice cracked when he spoke.

“Is it still hurting?” Luis asked looking straight into Jisung’s eyes. His hand brushed gently against Jisung’s thigh, encouraging him.

Jisung smiled weakly,

“Every time I think I’m getting over it, I end up hurting more.”

Luis nodded but didn’t say anything. He grabbed Jisung’s hand and squeezed it tight. Minnie rubbed her head against his arm.

“Has it got anything to do with Tommy? He stopped coming a little after you did.” Luis finally asked, reaching up to wipe away the tears Jisung hadn’t realised had fallen.

“It has everything to do with Tommy,” Jisung answered quietly looking down at his lap, unable to keep the false smile on his face.

Luis let go of his hand and rubbed his back instead. Jisung barley contained a sob. He was back walking down the path he had run along years ago, collecting everything he had left behind, and each step hurt just as much as the last.

He wondered what his destination was. Heartbreak? Healing? Jisung couldn’t be sure, but for now, he would walk blindly.

“You said it was getting better?” Luis asked finally, and Jisung nodded without looking up from his lap.

“Sometimes I forget, and the sky seems blue.” He whispered, almost smiling.

“The sky seems blue,” Luis repeated. “That’s pretty, I like it.”

“Is it?”

“You’ve always been good with words.”

Jisung laughed darkly. If only he was as good at feelings as he was with words.

“Tell about something pretty, something in your life that has made it better.” Luis wrapped his arm around Jisung’s back pulling him into his side. He didn’t fit quite as well as he had when he was younger, but the familiarity was nice.

Luis was the closest thing Jisung had to a brother, just like Deaun was the closest thing to a sister. They had never met though, they stayed firmly on the two opposite sides of Tommy and Jisung’s friendship. Deaun belonged to the family dinners and sweet day trips. Luis belonged to the nights were Tommy and Jisung went out alone. He was who they went to when they got into trouble they couldn’t explain to their parents. He belonged to the side when Jisung had Tommy to himself.

“I’ve made new friends.” Jisung twisted his body so Luis could see him smile. “There is three my age, I was friends with them first. Hyunjin Hyung, Seungmin and Felix. Hyunjin is a dancer, he’s fucking good too. We didn’t get along great at first. I was dumb and thought he would be self-obsessed, but I was just being a dick and judging of looks. We get along great now.” Jisung paused for a second. _Were they getting along great? Hyunjin had been acting weird around him recently._

Luis hummed and Jisung continued.

“Then there’s Felix. We’re basically twins because he’s born the day after me. He came from Australia the beginning of last year and didn’t speak any Korean, so it was a little difficult at first but he’s gotten really good.

“I think I might have already known Seungmin before… I might have already told you about Seungmin.”

Jisung had made friends with Seungmin earlier than he had the others.

“Oh yes I remember, baseball player, his family owns that restaurant right,” Luis interjected and Jisung nodded.

“Yeah, that’s him. We got a lot closer and he introduced me to Hyunjin.” He paused again to see if Luis had anything else to say, but the older boy seemed happy just to listen to Jisung talk.

“I joined a rap crew.” Jisung blushed, very embarrassed. Luis had only heard the questionable rap from his YouTube before he started taking it seriously.

“Really?!” Luis sat up a bit straighter. “You were always so good at it; I knew you would do well if you put effort into it.”

“Hey!” Jisung pouted. “How do you know I didn’t try?”

“Please,” Luis rolled his eyes playfully, “I knew you much better than you thought.”

Jisung bit his lip. It hurt being referred to in the past tense.

“Yeah, that’s fair. We’ve entered a few songs into competitions recently.” Jisung wrinkled his nose. “If we win, we get to do a performance at this bar, but I don’t think we will.”

“Don’t be harsh on yourself.” Luis flicked his ear and laughed.

“If we win, you should come to watch.” Jisung flushed red again.

“Definitely.”

“I got pretty close with the Chan and Changbin, from the crew, and they introduced me to their friend.” Jisung trailed off, he didn’t know if he wanted to talk about Minho. “They introduced me to their friend Minho. We, we don’t get along.”

“Oh really?” Luis asked, surprised, squeezing Jisung against his side.

“Well, we didn’t.” Jisung admitted, “He hated me, and I was scared of him. I still am.”

Luis hummed thoughtfully.

“Is he a scary person?”

Jisung thought for a moment.

“Sort of. He’s a little like an animal; when they’re frightened, they are dangerous, and they’re scary.”

“You think Minho is frightened?” Luis asked, lifting a hand to run it through Jisung’s hair.

“Yeah. I think he is.”

They were silent for a moment.

Minho was like a predator. He was beautiful and threatening. He was deadly and untameable. He fought with no remorse and hurt himself without thinking. Minho was crazy. Minho was hurting.

And Jisung had hurt him more.

“I hurt him Luis,” Jisung whispered, pressing his face into Luis’s shoulder.

“I ran into Deaun at the convenience store the other day. She invited me to go to a party and I went. Minho was there, I didn’t realise he would be. I was sad. I didn’t want to see Deaun, I felt guilty, so I drank far too much. I got drunk and started crying when Tommy showed up and Minho took care of me.” Jisung knew that he was dropping a lot of information and Luis probably wasn’t following, but he didn’t really care. It just felt good to speak.

“He took me back to his place.” Jisung felt his face heat up.

“Did he do anything?” Luis interrupted urgently, worry all over his face.

Jisung shook his head,

“No. He put me to sleep in his bed and he slept on the couch.”

“Thank god.” Luis breathed out.

“I left in the morning before he had woken up. Then the next day he tried to ask if I was okay and I attacked. I was scared, I didn’t want to admit that I was hurting, I didn’t want to seem vulnerable, so I said somethings that I shouldn’t have. I just wanted him to stop caring.”

Tears slid down his cheeks and Jisung whipped them away hurriedly.

“Shhhh, it’s okay.” Luis pulled his hands away from his face. “You made a mistake, you’re human and you’re scared.” Luis twisted their bodies, so they were facing each other. “I trust that you will do everything you can to show him that you didn’t mean it, you’re not a bad person so stop treating yourself as such.” He pulled Jisung into his chest and hugged him tightly. Jisung sobbed and Luis pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

How was Jisung not a bad person? He ran, he hurt, he was scared. He left Luis behind, didn’t think about him for years. Luis who was close enough to be a brother, and he still didn’t think of Jisung as bad. Jisung didn’t deserve to be forgiven. Not by Luis, not by Deaun, not by Minho.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered. Luis just held him tighter.

“Hey Luis, uhh, yeah we may have broken the – oh.” One of Luis’s friends stepped into the store from the stairwell. He froze when he saw Jisung curled up in Luis’s arms.

Luis sighed and got up from the couch.

“Jisung this is Taeyong. Taeyong, Jisung.”

Jisung whipped his nose and waved shyly. Taeyong looked between them, confused.

“Are you okay man?” He asked Jisung, who nodded.

“Yeah, we just haven’t seen each other in a long time, emotional reunion you know,” Luis answered for him, offering Jisung a hand to help him up. Jisung excepted and got up from the couch. His bare arms stuck to the leather.

Taeyong nodded but didn’t seem convinced.

“Do you want to come upstairs?” Luis asked Jisung hopefully, Taeyong looked at him like he was mad.  
Jisung shook his head.

“No, it’s okay. I should go.” Jisung couldn’t meet Luis's eyes. “But before I do can I grab some paint.”

Luis grinned.

“Of course, I’ve missed seeing it around. Maybe I’ll get you to redo that one.” He pointed over at the wall and Jisung cringed. Taeyong looked over curiously.

“Sure thing.” Jisung shifted uncomfortably in his shoes.

Luis led him over to the counter and Jisung opened his backpack and pulled out his wallet. Luis shook his head.

“This one's on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really just keep introducing characters, don't I. It doesn't feel realistic that the only people Jisung would interact with are the Stray Kids guys, especially since he has his whole old life. About Luis, he is an adult, probably ten years older than Jisung, I don't know if I made that clear. Another thing, I'm not sure if its the same everywhere, but here it's illegal to buy spray paint unless you're over 18, which Jisung isn't, that's why he had to go to Luis.  
> Ok that's everything, I have to keep going on with homework now :(


	21. Chapter 21 (Heartbreak had kept him from so many things)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Surprise.  
> I have exams next week, they're not super important, but they will be taking up most of my time for the next couple of days, so I thought I would get this out now.  
> I struggled with this chapter for quite a long time. I don't know why but found it really difficult to picture where I wanted the characters to take this chapter and how their actions could seem both realistic and get the story where I wanted it. Then suddenly I got it and ended up being pretty happy with how it's ended up.

Outside the shop was significantly cooler than when he had arrived. Jisung pulled on his hoodie, his bag now heavy with the paint. The sounds of the cans rattling inside was familiar and Jisung was hit with the sense of excitement that always came with the noise.

He missed Tommy.

He went out wanting to forget about Minho but all he was being reminded of was Tommy. He didn’t mean to, but he ended up tracing the paths he had with Tommy long ago, ending up at the same skate park where they last hung out. Jisung hadn’t been there since and he was surprised he still remembered the way. It wasn’t as far away from Jisung’s house as he had thought, and he was there in just over half an hour. It was actually rather close to Deaun’s place, and with a jolt, Jisung realised, even closer to Minho’s.

He wasn’t here to think about Minho. He was here to forget.

Maybe he was here to forget the horrible words he had spoken to Minho, maybe he was here to forget about Tommy. He wasn’t doing a good job of either.

He wasn’t surprised that majority of the snake had been covered. Some of the glittering green scales were visible still, shining through the gaps in the layers and layers of tagging. The golden eye had been covered though, and to Jisung that make the work good as dead.

He dropped the backpack to the ground, the fabric doing little to muffle the distinct sound of the cans hitting the pavement. He wondered if Tommy still came here.

It was kind of symbolic, Jisung thought, painting over a work where every stroke had been dedicated to a boy he loved, Tommy. He had to cut out the memory to heal, maybe this was the first step.

He pulled out the violent purple paint from his bad and shook in. The metallic ting made Jisung shiver with anticipation. His heart rate rose and Jisung’s grip around the can tightened.

What killed snakes? Birds killed snakes, didn’t they? Jisung pulled out his phone and opened it. The message from Minho popped up and Jisung quickly shut it. He still hadn’t replied, and he didn’t plan on. He wasn’t here to think about Minho.

He sat cross-legged on the pavement, still warm from the afternoon sun, researching predators of snakes and falling down a hole of National Geographic videos. People always told Jisung he was easily distracted, and here he thought he had proven them right. Jisung watched in awe as an eagle dove down towards the ground, its feathers fluttered in the wind, the slow-motion captured the extreme precision of the hunt.

Jisung was enhanced. The bird was so perfect, beautiful, and dangerous, a more terrifying mix than anything else. Jisung didn’t know where to look as the eagle’s claws snatched the snake from the ground, the talons piercing the scales, but the bird’s feathers reflected the light in all the purples the world had ever seen.

His heart was beating wildly fast when he clicked off the video. The bird was imprinted in his mind and he could already see it on the wall, coving the remainders of the snake and the tagging. Jisung shook the purple paint and sprayed the wall before he could change his mind.

He was moving on, even if each step hurt more than the last.

He swapped between studying the image, painting, running backwards to see how it looked from a distance and keeping an eye out for an unlikely police officer.

He had his headphones on but kept pulling them, worried that without his hearing he might miss a car approaching.

He laughed to himself, as stressful as always, but it felt good. Jisung hated that heartbreak had kept him from so many things.

Minho walked home from Chans around eleven-thirty, the taste of his final victory still on his lips. The whole evening had been distinctly sweet; a momentary distraction amongst the continuous downpour of everyday misery interrupted only by Jisung’s apology. The apology that stuck in Minho’s mind until he couldn’t help but reply and couldn’t help but think about the words throughout the evening. He was sure the others had noticed his distraction, especially when Chan beat him four times in a row, but none of them said anything.

The walk from Chan’s home wasn’t that long, but the darkness of night made just that little bit longer. Chan offered to pay an uber for him, but they all knew that Minho would never except anyone’s offer to spend money on him, especially when it could easily be avoided. Chan had walked him down to the gate and handed him a torch.

“Just in case your phone runs out of battery.”

Minho rolled his eyes but thanked Chan anyway. If only he knew about the things Minho did at night.

Minho was sure there was a quicker way to get home that didn’t take him around the back of the neighbourhood, but if there was Minho hadn’t found it. The quickest route between their houses was a highway, which busses travelled to and from multiple times a day. It was too late now, the final bus having passed at ten-thirty, so walking it was. The highway didn’t have a footpath along it for obvious reasons, so Minho followed the same path he always did, which took him thought the richer, better-lit neighbourhoods and to his house, narrowly avoiding the dance studios.

He didn’t really have to think about where he was going, having followed this path countless times over the couple years he had been friends with Chan, ever since moving back to the city. The walk wasn’t dangerous as most of it was though the well-protected wealthy areas where the most criminalist person there was himself. He didn’t usually see anyone at all.

Maybe that was why the movement in the skatepark caught his attention so quickly. Skaters were always a risk with Minho, half of them were cool, the other was rich, pretty boys who hated him. The half he liked called them posers, so they really weren’t liked by anyone.

The person at the park was staring at the wall of the bathrooms, hands-on-hips. He took a couple steps backwards and stared at the wall again. He shook his head, seemingly unsatisfied and ran over to the road before analysing the wall again. Minho stopped walking and watched amused from a distance as the boy pulled out a phone and held it up, looking between whatever was on the screen and the wall.

The boy put the phone back in his pocket again and walked up towards the bathroom again. He fell out of Minho’s view as the corner of the building blocked his line of sight. Minho walked around the corner and onto the road that paralleled the skate park and the boy came back into view again. His hoodie was pulled up over his mouth and nose and he was leaning down, choosing between a line-up of roughly fifteen different cans of spray paint.

The way he was crouched made him look so tiny, which was ironic considering the activity he was participating in. Minho wasn’t really one to talk though. The boy finally selected a colour and sprayed it on the ground to test it. He seemed unhappy with it and placed it back in line before picking up a second tone and completing the same routine. Minho laughed as he replaced the second on and re-selected the first choice. The boy stood up and faced the wall again and Minho gasped as he finally looked at the painting.

In all the time he had lived here this wall had been re-covered in graffiti more times than he could recall, but nothing had ever been this beautiful. There had been a snake once. Its eye had been so bright, it seemed to have captured the essence of the sun to shine at night, but that was long gone and had already mostly disappeared by the time Minho had moved in. This painting, this eagle, held that same magic that seemed to draw Minho in, the movement and life of the image so fantastical that he couldn’t help but approach.

The boy seemingly finished with the deep red he had selected dropped it to the pavement. The metallic ting seemed to echo around the neighbourhood.

He leant down and examined the freshly applied colour, before standing back up again, hands on hips. Minho laughed at his posture and walked a couple of steps closer. He was less hesitant than he expected.  
The hood fell off his head to reveal dark hair that caught the light of the streetlamp. Minho paused for a second before approaching further. Without the hood, the boy seemed more real and Minho thought twice before continuing forwards.

“Hello?” He called out and the boy spun around. His eyes were wide with fright and his face was unfortunately familiar.

“Jisung?”

Jisung squinted, the streetlight must have been hiding the details of Minho’s face from him.

“Minho? Far out, I thought you were the cops.”

Jisung had paint all over his clothes and smudges on his face. Minho laughed.

“No, but I could have been.”

“Nah,” Jisung laughed too, “there’s never any round here.”

“No there’s not.” Minho agreed. The area was a perfect balance. Nice enough to avoid petty crime, far enough out from the wealthy sections to be targeted.

“Is this yours?” Minho gestured at the painting and Jisung nodded.

“It’s not great. Been a long time since I painted.”

Minho thought it was beautiful but didn’t say it.

“So, this isn’t a common thing, breaking the law you know?” Minho joked and Jisung cringed.

“No. It has been for a long time.” Jisung kicked at the grass to avoid Minho’s gaze. He looked up shyly and Minho felt his neck warming.

He walked closed and sat down on the railing. Jisung stared at him.

“Can I watch?” Minho asked and after a moment Jisung nodded.

“Yeah, if you keep an eye out for cops for me.” Jisung offered and Minho agreed. “This is the first time I’ve painted alone.” He admitted, his left hand briefly clenching into a fist.

Minho curiously tilted his head to the side, but he didn’t ask what the gesture implied. Instead, he just relaxed against the pole behind the railing and watched as Jisung continued the work. They didn’t talk as more and more layers of colour was applied to the wall, apart from when the wind changed briefly, and a cloud of fumes enveloped Minho. Minho breathed in a mouthful of chemicals and coughed violently. Jisung laughed and Minho pouted at him.

“I’m sorry.” Jisung giggled, pulling down the hoodie from his face. He came over to Minho and pulled his own jumper up over his mouth and nose. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over Minho’s cheeks.

“There you go.” He lightly patted Minho’s cheek. The moment felt too intermate; Jisung was too close and his eyes looked too pretty. Minho couldn’t look away. Under the fabric of his hoodie Minho’s tongue darted across his lips.

“Thank you,” Minho whispered softly.

Realisation flooded Jisung’s eyes and he stumbled back. Minho’s heart dropped. Jisung walked back towards the wall without looking at him and Minho tried to hide the fact that he was hurt.

Every stroke of paint Jisung applied amplified the movement of the bird even more. It was both hard to look at and impossible to look away. It wasn’t the same harsh, blocky art style Minho was used to seeing in streets, instead it concentrated on the overall direction of the image and power behind the movement. To Minho, it looked beautiful up close, but he could see how it was more important how it looked from a distance. He jumped up from the railing, his legs aching from how long he had been stationary and wandered over to the road.

“How does it look?” Jisung called over.

“Fucking spectacular!” Minho called back putting both thumbs up to solidify his words. Even from this distance, Minho could see Jisung’s face break into a grin. Minho couldn’t help but be disappointed that Jisung’s mouth was covered, his smile was too pretty to be hidden.

Minho returned over to the bathrooms but instead of sitting back on the rail, came to stand next to Jisung in front of the wall. Jisung didn’t look over but stiffened when he felt Minho’s presence. Minho hated that Jisung was still afraid of him.

Jisung shouldn’t have been surprised to run into Minho, this was near his apartment after all. That fact didn’t help his heart slow down or his guilt lessen. It felt like a very long time he had spoken those words, while simultaneously feeling like only moments before. The fact that the event had only taken place that morning, was a realisation that Jisung couldn’t stomach.

Minho watching him paint wasn’t nearly as intimidating as Jisung would have thought. He was mostly a silent observer and his presence was almost reassuring in a way. It reminded him of Tommy a little, and maybe that’s why he had slipped up and covered Minho’s mouth for him. The way Minho had looked at him was too innocent, too sweet, too unlike the Minho Jisung knew.

Just before he finished Minho came to stand next to him and Jisung froze. He was behaving too much like Tommy and the reminder hurt. Jisung knew he had paint on his face and couldn’t turn to face Minho just in case history repeated itself.

“I truly meant it. I’m sorry for what I said.” Jisung couldn’t look at Minho. The way he was admiring Jisung’s work was too reminiscent of Tommy.

“I know,” Minho said softly, “and I meant it when I said that I hadn’t forgiven you yet,” He turned away from the wall to look at Jisung, “But I also get why you did. You were protecting yourself.”

Jisung nodded sadly and Minho turned back to the wall. The interest in his eyes had faded and they were cooler. Jisung shivered.

There was a moment of silence.

“Did you mean it when you said you cared still?” Jisung whispered, looking at the ground.

Minho blushed.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He looked down at his shoes and kicked a pebble. He was embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay.” Jisung almost reached out and grabbed Minho’s hand, but Minho put them in his pockets and sighed.

“I didn’t like seeing you sad,” Minho admitted shyly and Jisung blushed too.

Minho turned back to the bird, but this time there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Is it done?”

Jisung shook his head.

“No, I still have the eye left.” He gestured at the empty space on the side of the eagle’s face.

“What colour?” Minho asked curiously, gazing at the gap.

“How about you decide.”

“Really?!” Minho exclaimed spinning around to face Jisung again. Jisung nodded and Minho grinned. He looked so young like this; it was almost impossible to believe that this was the same boy Jisung had seen begging for pain behind the arts building. There were so many more layers to Minho than he had thought.

“How about orange? The same as the snake that used to be here. Do you know the one?” Minho finally spoke and Jisung shuddered.

Yes, he remembered the snake.

“Anything but orange.”

“Yellow?”

Yellow sounded good.

They fell silent again as Minho watched Jisung paint, however, this time Minho was a lot closer, leaning forwards as Jisung once again smudged the paint with the pad of his thumb.

Jisung sprayed the pupil and reflection before throwing the cans down and grabbing Minho’s hand.

“Come on!” He called pulling Minho away from the picture and towards the road. Minho laughed and ran alongside him. Their hands stayed conjoined but Jisung didn’t want to think about that.

“Wow.” Minho breathed when they stopped at the curb and turned back to look at it. “Is there anything you can’t do.”

There was a lot of things Jisung couldn’t do. Face his feelings, apologise, not be a horrible friend, but he couldn’t say that. So, instead, he just pouted and poked Minho’s side.

“Just dance apparently.”

Minho stared at him in surprise before laughing. It was the first time Jisung has willingly referenced that night.

“Are you happy with it?” Minho asked and Jisung thought that was an oddly specific question.

“Stay here, I have one thing I want to add.” Jisung pulled his hand out of Minho’s, immediately missing the warmth, and ran back down to the wall. He searched through the cans until he found the violent purple, he had done the original sketch in.

What had he written last time? The words were mostly covered but the little hits visible enabled Jisung to decipher his own message.

_‘You will always have my heart. I will always love you unconditionally and unrequited.’_

His heart beat a little faster as he shook the purple can. He wanted to move on. He wanted for Tommy’s name to no longer mean the things that it did, but he didn’t know if he could forget just yet.

_‘I hope the words I wrote no longer hold their weight.’_

He sprayed the words across the bottom of the wall, knowing that Tommy wasn’t likely to see it and no one else was likely to understand.

He wanted to stop hurting.

Minho stayed up by the road and Jisung returned to his side, bringing the box of food he had taken from Seungmin’s mum with him. He held it out to Minho who took a piece and nibbled it. Jisung did the same.

“What does that mean?”

Jisung sighed,

“I don’t know if I want to say.”

Minho nodded,

“That’s fair. I know a lot more about you than you do about me.” Minho sat down on the curb and Jisung followed suit.

“How about we do a trade.” Minho offered and Jisung frowned. What?

“I found out things about you that you didn’t want me to.” Minho continued, “I think it’s only fair if you know something about me.”

“Oh” Jisung didn’t think that was necessary at all. Minho didn’t seem too deterred by his confusion and kept on speaking.

“This morning you mentioned the rumour that my dad killed my mum.” Minho didn’t look him in the eye and Jisung flushed.

“I’m sorry” He started to say but Minho interrupted him.

“Don’t apologise again. That rumours followed me ever since she died and it’s really my fault.” Minho frowned and picked at the grass. Jisung didn’t know what to say and the silence seemed deafening.

“My mum was coming back from shopping when I was thirteen when our car was involved in a crash.” Minho swallowed and Jisung threaded his hands together nervously. Minho’s own hand sat a couple of inches away on the grass. How much harder it was to grab it now compared to moments before when the motion seemed to mean nothing.

“We were turning right at the intersection when a car came speeding around the corner and collided with the driver’s side of the car. It was our right of way and the other driver was speeding, but that didn’t matter, Mum died, and the driver got away.” He took in a shaky breath and Jisung wanted to reach for his hand even more.

“I saw his face and to this day I swear he looks like my dad, though with every passing day I doubt the memory more. He left when I was eight, last I heard he was living in Canada, I probably have half-siblings by now, not that I would know.” Minho’s eyes were watery, and he looked the most vulnerable Jisung had ever seen.

“The first week without her felt like the worst. I was distraught and had four separate breakdowns where I screamed that it was my dad who had been behind the wheel, even after I had been informed that he was overseas at the time.” Minho sniffed and Jisung finally had the courage to rub his back reassuringly. Minho laughed weakly.

“I was supposed to go over there and live with him, but I guess he didn’t want me, instead I moved to live with my grandmother out of town. The idea that it was my dad followed me there and has been following me ever since.” He chuckled sadly as Jisung gave in to instinct and hugged him tightly.

“I definitely shouldn’t have said that.” Jisung apologised again into the chemical-smelling fabric of Minho’s hoodie.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard it.”

That made Jisung feel even worse.

“It feels good to talk about it for once.” Minho admired softly his arms raising up to hug Jisung back.

“You haven’t told anyone?” Jisung asked surprised.

Minho hummed in reply.

“Chan knows the most, Changbin knows the basics. People only know as much as I let them.”

This wasn’t fair at all. Jisung had been vulnerable in front of Minho, Minho had told him things no one else knew.

“I’ll be here to listen when you’re ready.” Minho rubbed his back and Jisung nodded in the crook of Minho’s neck.

“I promise that I’ll come to you one day,” Jisung whispered.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled in a tight hug, stuck in the painful memories of their own past.

“You smell like chemicals.” Minho finally joked letting Jisung go and signifying that he should do the same.

“You do too.” Jisung giggled and flopped back onto the grass. The stars were hidden by the light of the streetlamp and Jisung sighed.

“Were there lots of stars at your grandma’s?” He asked looking over at Minho who had also laid back.

“More than here.” Minho responded, “but not great. I used to sneak out of the house to climb this hill just out of town. At the top, the stars were brighter than everwhere else, and I could scream as loud as I could without anyone hearing.”

Jisung shut his eyes.

“When did you come back here?”

“Almost two years ago. I got my dance scholarship when I was sixteen and moved straight away.” Minho sounded relaxed so Jisung thought it was safe to keep asking questions. He liked listening to Minho speak.

“Where did you learn to dance?”

“I might have told you this at the party, but my mum was a ballet dancer and me and Deaun were in her class together until... You know. When I moved, I got involved with the street scene, fighting and dance. They were so tightly interwoven it was sometimes impossible to differentiate the two.”

“Was it scary?”

Minho laughed,

“Looking back, I was nowhere near as scared as I should have been.”

Jisung opened his eyes again and rolled over to face Minho.

“Did you like my song?” He tried to sound casual, but he could tell his desperation showed despite his effort.

Minho laughed and rolled onto his side too.

“It was everything I could have asked for.”

“That’s good.” He whispered back. Jisung hadn’t expected Minho to be so blunt with his compliment and he was left feeling flustered.

“Our show is next week. I’m sure either Felix or Hyunjin had already asked you to come, but I’d like to invite you too.” Minho smiled; the side of his face pressed against the ground squished funnily as he spoke.

“I’ll come,” Jisung replied reciprocating Minho’s smile. Minho was right, he had been invited to go watch even before the date had decided, but he had always known that his friends would ask him. It meant a lot more from Minho.

“I’m glad.” Minho rolled back onto his back and stared up at the non-existent stars. “If you’ve got any more music, I would love to use it in the future.”

Jisung nodded even though Minho couldn’t see.

“I know the world might seem scary Jisung, and it is, but I will always be here if you need anything.”

Minho sat up and Jisung followed suit. Minho had the imprints of the grass pressed into the skin of his face.

“Okay.”

Jisung didn’t know if he was ever going to be ready to speak about his past life and all the mistakes he’d made, but it was comforting that Minho would be there when he was.

“You should go home now.” Minho turned around and smiled at him. Jisung wrinkled his nose.

“I don’t wanna.”

Minho laughed and patted his cheek,

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He got up and held his hand out for Jisung to grab. Jisung accepted the offer and let Minho pull him to his feet. The muscles in Minho’s arms flexed showing through the thin fabric of his hoodie. Jisung tried not to look at them.

“We won’t talk about this in front of the others?” Jisung asked. Minho laughed and let go of his hand.

“Can you imagine how mad Chan would be if he knew what I found you doing.”

Jisung chuckled shyly. So, they were on the same page.

Minho followed him back down to the bathroom and watched as he packed the spray cans away, wiping each one on his jumper to remove the excess paint. Minho handed him the half-eaten box of food and Jisung took it thankfully.

“Do we really have to go to school tomorrow?” He asked putting the food and cans back into his backpack. Minho nodded sadly.

They walked over to his bike together and Minho leant against the streetlamp.

“Message me when you get home alright.” He patted the thigh of his pants, where Jisung assumed his phone was in his pocket.

“Sure.” Jisung swung a leg over the bike, trying to seem like the care didn’t leave him flustered.

“Stay safe Jisung.” Minho patted the back wheel of the bike, sending Jisung off into the night.

Jisung looked over his shoulder multiple times as the skate park became more and more distance. Minho stayed by the lamp, watching as the light on the back of his bike became weaker and weaker. Jisung didn’t like how safe he felt around Minho, like his heart was betraying his common sense.

He sighed and tilted his head back before breaking out into a grin.

He had left the night not thinking about Tommy and that was the unspecified intention of the night. He was taking the painful steps to moving on.

Jisung’s mum still wasn’t home when he arrived back at the apartment. He put the left-over food in the fridge and hid the cans away in the corner of his wardrobe. His mum had never found them there and Jisung doubted she would now. He pulled his hoodie over his head and placed it over the paint.

He seemed to float through his nightly routine, not concentrating on anything and letting his mind wander. He thought of painting, Tommy, song lyrics, Luis, Minho, the competition Chan had entered them in, everything and nothing. Finally, as he fell into bed, he pulled his phone out and clicked on Minho’s contact. He purposely ignored their previous conversation as the guilt once again rose inside his chest.

_2.18: I got home safe, sleep well xx_

He sent the x's without thinking and blushed after he realised.

He hadn’t had his phone out all night and had more than one missed message. There was one from Seungmin apologising for not being home when he had come around, one from his mum saying that she was getting held back, but more notably one from Deaun.

_22.11: Seungie! I was hoping you would like to come out to eat sometime with me. I have a friend Lia, who I think you would get along with great, she would love to meet up with you xxx_

Jisung threw his phone across the room onto the mountain of clothes in the corner. Deaun and Chan would get along so, so well. They were one and the same really. If Chan had some to set him up with Jisung was sure he would have done it by now, Deaun had just beat him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was looking back and I didn't realise how many of the last chapters have taken place on the same day. Minho and Jisung actually talked, and neither of them was drunk! I hope once again that this chapter didn't feel forced. To me this one felt a lot more natural than the party scene but I can never be sure.  
> Comeback was more than I could have ever wished for, I think my favorite song was Easy but I was blown away by all. The ones I wasn't to keen on at first have grown on me so so much and I now jam to the whole album.  
> It's been a crazy week, my friends boyfriend cheated on her and we all knew before she did, the school caught on fire, I dyed my hair pink and on top of that stray kids have been dropping content like it's no one business.  
> I think that's all, I will see you next chapter xxx  
> Also is skate park one or two words. I found it written with both.


	22. Chapter 22 (Not because of payback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished my exams! Now I'm on holidays!

Chan was practically vibrating with excitement when Minho arrived at school in the morning. He was sitting on their usual table in the courtyard, surrounded by a couple of their friends and when Minho approached, he could hear the others begging him to ‘tell them’. 

Seungmin turned to Minho.

“Make him tell us Hyung,” he whined pulling on Minho’s sleeve like a little child. Minho bit back a laugh at the action.

“I’m not saying anything until Jisung’s here so you can stop trying to break me,” Chan exclaimed, kicking out his leg and pushing Seungmin away with the sole of his shoe. 

“What about Felix?” Hyunjin questioned, narrowing his eyes, “Why will you only say when Jisung arrives? Why not only when everybody’s here?” 

Chan’s eyes widened with comical panic at his slip and Changbin gasped and slapped his hands down on the wood of the table. 

“So, I was right! This is about 3racha.” 

Chan nodded hesitantly, and the others all cheered in victory. Minho laughed at the ridiculousness of his friends. 

Jisung took far longer to arrive than any of their patience allowed, but just as long as any of them should have expected. It had become a joke between them how late Jisung was for things. Or maybe it had always been a joke and Minho had only just been let in on it.

When he finally came over, rubbing his eyes and yawning, Chan looked like he might explode with the anticipation. Hyunjin couldn’t wait any longer and ran over to drag Jisung the rest of the way. 

Jisung grumbled but allowed himself to be manhandled, seeming too tired to fight. Minho wondered how much longer he had been awake after they had parted ways the night before. It had been two in the morning by the time Minho himself had arrived home and it had seemed like Jisung lived a lot further away than he did. 

Jisung smiled sleepily at him and Minho smiled back.

Jisung’s hair was a mess, looking a lot fluffier than usual and like he hadn’t touched it since rolling out of bed. He looked softer than he had before. Minho liked it. 

Jisung ran his hand through it as Hyunjin pushed him towards the table and directly in front of Chan. As the dark locks moved Minho could see a stripe of purple paint across the side of his temple and across the top of his ear. He chuckled lightly and Jisung dropped his hands and the hair fell back into place, covering the colour.

“He’s here now, tell us.” Felix cried. He had only arrived moments before but was excitable by nature and had quickly become just as invested as the others.

“Tell… What?” Jisung mumbled; he sounded half asleep still. 

“We got into the next stage of the competition.” The statement burst out Chan with uncontrollable excitement. Jisung gasped, his hands flying to his mouth.

“No way.” He breathed out, fully awake now. 

“The radio one?” Changbin asked; he had fallen back into the seat with surprise.

The rest of the friend group stared, smiles slowly growing as it dawned on them what the three were discussing.

“The radio one,” Chan confirmed and Changbin breathed in sharply. 

“No way,” Jisung repeated, lowering his hands, and revealing his beautiful smile. Minho found himself grinning uncontrollably.

“WE GOT THROUGH!” Jisung yelled up at the sky, waving his hands around. 

“YOU GOT THROUGH!” Felix joined in grabbing Jisung’s hands and jumping around with him. Minho doubted Felix knew what they were celebrating, but he was undoubtedly equally as joyful. 

The girls over at the table near the door were staring at them and one giggled nervously. They seemed to feel Minho’s eyes on them and the one sitting nearest met his gaze. She stiffened for a moment before looking away quickly. Minho wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t make her fear hurt any less. 

“The radio competition?” Seungmin asked, opening the opportunity for Chan to explain the situation, and allowing the rest of them to join in on the celebration.

Changbin explained for him instead.

“A couple of weeks ago we entered a song into a big radio station competition, we finalised it the night before, it was all really rushed, and we didn’t expect it to go anywhere.” He paused for a second, his grin too wide to speak through. “There are a couple of stages to the competition, the first was judged by the station and then in the second they put their top twenty up on their website and play them over the radio for people to vote.” 

“You’re going to be played on the radio,” Jeongin asked wide-eyed and Chan nodded slowly, the smile had never left his face. 

“No way,” Minho said without realising. He locked eyes with Chan and immediately registered the tears welling in his eyes. Minho pushed thought his friends and pulled Chan into a hug. Chan held him tight to his chest.

“I’m so proud of you,” Minho whispered to him and Chan squeezed him tighter in response. 

Minho had witnessed first-hand how Chan had struggled through these past few years in finding success in his music. Chan wore a brave face because he knew the others needed to see him as strong, but Minho had seen him crack enough times to know how much this step in exposer meant to him.

He felt someone join the hug from beside him and soon their entire group was enveloped in a group hug, piled up on top of the table.

Minho had never loved hugs, he put up with them because he appreciated the affection behind them, but human contact had always made him uncomfortable. Here, however, he felt warm, he felt loved, he felt like he belonged. Here he quite liked it. 

Jisung was dazed, there was no other way to describe it. All he could think about was his voice playing in someone’s car radio. Someone on the other side of the country, with no idea who he is, enjoying their music, replaying, searching their names. Success had never felt so close, Jisung felt like his fingertips were brushing the surface. 

He knew it was pointless getting his hopes up like this. There were still twenty other contestants to be weeded out before the possibility of being signed was a realistic dream, but for now, he would let himself imagine. 

Even getting to the next stage would be amazing. Interview and live performances felt like the life of a celebrity, not the life of, well, Jisung. 

The day went by without Jisung noticing and before he knew it, he was in Hyunjin’s kitchen, beer forced into his hand celebrating the hope of accomplishment. Hyunjin’s parents were out for the night and had never really cared about Hyunjin throwing parties anyway, so as soon as the idea of celebrating rose to conversation Hyunjin offered to host. 

It was just the nine of them, lazing in the living room and kitchen, deliriously happy. Jisung hadn’t realised how quickly these people had become his home. Alcohol was passed around, though not to Jeongin because even though the 00 liners were all underaged, Jeongin specifically felt too young. He whined about it but Chan was firm and eventually, he settled with juice with the promise that Chan would take him to the arcade. 

Seungmin stole Changbin’s phone and connected it to Hyunjin’s speaker system, blasting P.A.C.E, the song they had entered, thought the house. Changbin pretended to be bothered, but they were all too proud of the song to really be embarrassed. 

Hyunjin was just as much of a lightweight as Jisung but seemed to lack the mortification to control himself. He was drunk much earlier than anybody else, but that wasn’t a problem. He was funny drunk, even more dramatic than usual, if that was possible, more open, clingy, and loving. 

Jisung perched on the couch and watched Hyunjin drag Felix and Seungmin into a very unstable game of twister on the living room floor. Jeongin called the numbers from the red leather armchair, cringing away when Hyunjin drunkenly turned to a lot more suggestive contact as a means of winning. He finally gave up and handed the board over to Chan when Hyunjin presses his tongue against the strip of skin visible around Seungmin’s waist where his shirt had fallen. Seungmin who had been holding the majority of his weight up with his hands squealed and collapsed, taking Felix down with him. 

Hyunjin burst into uncontrollable giggles, rolling on the floor as Seungmin and Felix complained bitterly. 

“That’s not fair.” Felix whined, “Seungmin practically squashed me, how am I out?” 

“That was an illegal strategy!” Seungmin kicked Hyunjin’s stomach. His voice slurred and he wrinkled his nose when his words didn’t sound as intellectual as they did sober. 

Jisung took a sip of his drink and out the corner of his eye, he saw Minho’s attention drawn from the breakfast bar in the kitchen. If Minho weren’t there Jisung might have drunken more freely, but the memory of the weekend was fresh in his mind and he didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment of losing himself again. 

Minho pushed the chair back and came over to the couch. The cushions sunk under his weight, uncontrollably tilting Jisung’s body towards him. 

“You’re not drinking?” Minho asked without looking over. 

Jisung hummed in response, his eyes still on Hyunjin on the floor. Minho didn’t talk to him with the others around, at least he hadn’t, and Jisung wasn’t sure how to react. 

“I don’t usually. Deaun's was an exception.”

“You’re safe here.” Minho tapped his finger on the arm of the couch, “You don’t have to worry about what people will think.”

Jisung didn’t want to explain that he was hiding so much of himself the revealing it would result in reinventing the persona of himself, so instead he just nodded.

“Thanks.”

They sat silently beside each other. Minho’s hand felt dangerously close to Jisung’s, resting on the couch. It felt dangerous sitting this close with everybody around them. Jisung knew they weren’t hiding anything, yet the pressure of keeping it secret was undeniable. Jeongin was eying them suspiciously from where he was talking to Chan. Jisung winced with the memory of the fight Jeongin had witnessed and the thoughts that might be running through the boy’s head. 

Jisung heard Minho shifting around and felt the cushions betray the change in his weight distribution but didn’t look over to confirm how his position had changed. 

“You’ve still got paint on your ear.” 

When Jisung turned Minho’s face was serious, but he had a glimmer in his eyes that Jisung hadn’t been able to detect up to this point.

Jisung’s eyes widened and he brought his hand up to rub at his left ear. 

“The other one.” Minho tried to keep himself from giggling and failed miserably. Jisung blushed and switched hands to rub the other ear. Minho smiled fondly and pulled his hands down. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not very noticeable.” Minho held Jisung’s hands down.

“You noticed it.” Jisung pouted and Minho giggled again. 

“Yeah, but I was-” Minho frowned. Jisung tilted his head to the side. “I don’t think anybody else will realise.” 

“You think?” Jisung asked, rubbing his wrist with the pad of his thumb.

Minho opened his mouth to answer, but Jisung never got the opportunity to hear the words.

“Jisunnngiiiiiiiiieeeeeee” Hyunjin cried gazing up at them. Jisung tore his eyes from Minho to look at his friend, spread out on the twister mat, Felix using his belly as a pillow and Seungmin pulling his hair into little braids.

“Yes, Jinnie,” Jisung replied, cooing slightly. 

“Play with me please.” 

The weight beside Jisung on the couch lifted as Minho rose to go talk to Changbin in the kitchen. Jisung’s hand spread out to trace the area of cushion where Minho’s had rested. It was warm with the memory of Minho’s presents. 

“Twister?” Jisung asked and Hyunjin nodded. 

“Are you going to lick me too?”

Hyunjin giggled and wriggled around, pulling his hair out of Seungmin’s hands, and knocking Felix’s head off his stomach. 

“Maybe. If I feel like it.” 

“If you feel like it?” Jisung laughed and Hyunjin nodded. 

“Maybe I’ll even kiss you.” He whispered incredibly loudly, then gasped dramatically as he had just spoken his most sacred secret. 

“Kiss me,” Jisung repeated a little shocked. “Oh, I get it, payback for when I kissed your jaw at school.” He chuckled remembering how Hyunjin had pushed him away at the lunch table. 

Hyunjin rolled over onto his chest, breaking his eye contact with Jisung, and hiding his face. 

“No” His voice was muffled with his back turned and face angled towards the floor.

“What?” 

“Not because of payback.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one was a bit shorter. It was originally supposed to be longer but I think that the flow works better with two separate chapters and it will be more understandable this way.


	23. Chapter 23 (Minho would laugh because he didn’t understand what the butterflies meant)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went camping for a couple of days and had absolutely no signal or anytime to write but I'm back now :) In return for being missing I give you minsung interactions.

Minho was tipsy and Jisung was ethereal. Ridiculously so.

Hyunjin had succeeded in dragging him into a game of twister and Minho was entranced. Jisung’s had stripped his school shirt, just wearing the black t-shirt underneath, showing an incredible amount of arms and abs as Hyunjin pulled up the fabric. Jisung slapped his hands away, but it was only moments before Hyunjin’s hands would stray again dipping under the cloth, once again revealing Jisung’s skin to the room.

Minho knew he was staring but didn’t have the self-control to stop. He swallowed, hoping that no one noticed his line of sight. Especially not Jeongin. Especially not Chan.

He was so incredibly taken with Jisung’s uncontrolled glee. As Hyunjin tickled his ribs Jisung cried with laughter and Minho’s heart skipped countless beats.

His eyes gleamed with undeniable brightness that rivalled the stars. Minho didn’t think one person could embody happiness quite like Jisung did at this moment.

Minho felt hot. Ridiculously so.

The air in the room felt heavy with the heat. His skin was damp with sweat and he held the bottle of beer against his neck, the iced liquid cool against his skin. He slumped on the couch, hoodie thrown on the floor and hair plastered to his forehead.

In front of him, Hyunjin collapsed on top of Jisung, knocking his body to the ground. Jisung groaned loudly, as Hyunjin lay on his back, squashing his chest against the floor, but he let Hyunjin stay there, just like Minho knew that Hyunjin would let Jisung stay.

Hyunjin hugged him from behind and Minho could feel an indescribable jealously rising in his chest. He suddenly felt lonely, sitting by himself on the couch, surrounded by his friends, yet feeling completely isolated. Yet at the same time, he wanted to deflect any attention anyone gave him, anyone but Jisung maybe.

Minho sighed loudly and tipped his head back. He was drunk. Feelings seemed like a problem for the morning.

“Jisung” He called and Jisung turned his head to look over, still pinned to the floor with the weight of Hyunjin’s body. Minho smiled at him and Jisung smiled back.

“What?” Jisung asked giggling slightly with the blank look Minho gave him.

“I don’t know,” Minho replied. He hadn’t really had a plan, he just wanted to see Jisung smile at him again.

“I don’t know either.” Jisung laughed and Minho couldn’t help himself from giggling too.

_You look pretty._

He wanted to say it so badly, but common sense, or maybe cowardness got the better of him.

“Deaun messaged me yesterday.” Jisung’s smile stayed on his face, but his eyes no longer held the joy from moments before.

“Did she?” Minho asked picking up on of the cushions from the couch and hugging it against his chest.

“Who’s Deaun?” Hyunjin asked loudly and Jisung shushed him.

“An old friend.”

“Not your secret girlfriend?” Hyunjin asked and with the slur of his voice, Minho couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“No…” Jisung trailed off. Minho’s heart tightened.

“Is her messaging a good thing?” Minho asked quietly, he could feel Chan’s eyes trained on them and looked away from Jisung in attempt to disguise their conversation.

“Not sure.” Jisung sighed, “depends on whether or not I’m ready to forgive myself.”

Minho didn’t ask. He had promised not to question anything that might push Jisung to the edge, both to Jisung and himself. He didn’t want to break that promise.

“Hyunjin?” Chan looked over from the breakfast bench.

“Hmmmmmm” Hyunjin mumbled.

“Did you say your parents were going to be back at midnight?”

“Did I?” Hyunjin giggled, “I guess that’s right then.”

Chan stood up and took the empty beer bottles off the kitchen top.

“I reckon we should go, Jinnie. Your parents will be back soon-

“Will they?” Hyunjin interrupted loudly then giggled to himself. Chan continued, ignoring their host.

“and it’s a school night.”

“You’re not my mum!” Jisung cried but pushed Hyunjin off him regardless. They helped Chan tidy the place up, throwing away empty bottles and chip packets, packing away the twister, and Changbin carried Hyunjin into his room.

“Where are you gooooiiiinngggg?” Hyunjin whined as he was hefted onto Changbin’s shoulder. “Jissuunggiieee!”

“Home Baby,” Jisung responded pinching Hyunjin’s cheek. Hyunjin blushed furiously and waved as Changbin took him away. Jisung giggled and waved back. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“He’s so fucking clingy when he’s drunk.” Jisung snickered once he was out of earshot.

“He’s gross when he’s drunk.” Seungmin wrinkled his nose and everybody who had seen Hyunjin lick him laughed.

Chan held the door open for them and they all piled out onto the pavement. It was cool outside despite the sun throughout the day. Jisung swung his school bag over his shoulder, having gone straight to Hyunjin’s from school.

“How are you getting home?” Minho asked and Jisung shrugged.

“Think Chan’s dropping me. How about you?”

“Walking” Minho replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Jisung’s eyes widened.

“Are you sure? I’m sure Chan has room for you too.”

_You’re so fucking cute._

“Nah… I don’t like cars; I would rather walk.” Minho wrinkled his nose and kicked at a pebble on the sidewalk. Behind them, he could hear Jeongin complaining about how long Changbin was taking and Felix shushing him.

“Oh… Yeah of course… Your mum.”

“Yeah, my mum.” Minho laughed coolly.

“Are we ready to go,” Chan called, as Changbin came out the front door and shutting it behind him. The keys in his right hand clinked together and Minho’s chest tightened.

“Do you want a lift Minho?” He asked and Minho tried to keep the shake of his head casual.

“No thanks, I feel like a walk, it’s not far anyway.”

“You sure?” Chan insisted but backed off when Minho shot him a panicked look. Chan knew Minho wasn’t keen on cars, but maybe he didn’t quite know how terrified he actually was.

Chan’s car was in the opposite direction to Minho’s house and as the group parted ways Minho was left alone in the darkness.

Jisung didn’t say goodbye and Minho felt foolish for hoping.

Minho sat on his bed, ready for school, but not yet leaving. His head was still fuzzy from the night before, but he assumed he would be in a lot better condition than many of the others. He wrinkled his nose at the bright light of his phone in the dark room.

The contact was open, but he hesitated before calling. It was hard talking to his nan. He was constantly pretending to be happy because he couldn’t stand seeing her worried about him. He lied about his jobs, about the amount of money out his own pocket it was costing to live. If she knew it would only result in her attempting to pay more and her struggling financially too. It wasn’t worth it.

He sighed and pressed the call button. As it rang, he wandered around his apartment kicking at the corners of the carpets that had come up. His nan didn’t answer the first call, she never did. It went to message and Minho rang again, the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he poured himself juice into a chipped Christmas mug. His eyes darted to the clock hanging above the door to his bedroom, if she didn’t answer within the next call, they wouldn’t have time to talk before he would have to leave for school.

“Minho?” She finally answered, her voice distorted with the low quality of her ancient cell phone.

“Hi Nan.” he said softly before taking a sip of the juice, “How are you going?”

He sat at the table and listened to his nan complaining about the man down the street and the faulty light at the end of her road. He didn’t say much, he didn’t need to.

“How are you my darling?” She finally asked, indicating for Minho to take over the conversation. Minho considered lying, saying he was fine like he always did, but he realised that this time he didn’t have to, he was fine.

“Good, busy, but good.”

“Hmmm, that’s good. You mentioned a party last time, how did that go?” She asked and Minho chuckled.

“Yeah Deaun’s. It was fun, my friend got way too drunk and had a breakdown though.” Was Jisung his friend? Did it matter?

“Deaun? A girl?” his nan asked curiously.

“It’s not like that.” Minho giggled awkwardly, “We’re just friends.”

“Is there a girl you haven’t told me about?” His nan asked that a lot. She always had and Minho could never answer yes. It was easier to pretend it was normal when he was younger but now it was more difficult to avoid answering.

“No secret girlfriend. There’s someone…” Jisung’s smile filled his mind. The beautiful heart shape the only thing he could think about. The tanned colour of his skin and the brightness in his eyes. The softness of his cheeks and the energy in his laugh.

He liked Jisung.

Shit, he liked Jisung.

“There’s someone, I think they’re pretty, and smart and kind and fun,” he sighed, “I don’t think that it will work very well though, I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Sweetheart…”

Minho laughed sadly, but his mind was racing. He had hated Jisung hadn’t he. He had hated the way he flinched away, the way he froze, the way he was so outgoing yet terrified of Minho.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be happy just being friends.”

“Bring her to meet me.” His nan declared loudly, and Minho flinched with the feminine pronouns.

“Maybe one day.” He mumbled. He would never be able to bring anyone he loved to her, not with her knowing. He loved her to death, but she would never understand and never except that to be him. He would just pretend, say he was waiting for the ‘perfect’ one, never get married, no matter how much that hurt her. He would continue to pretend to be someone he wasn’t until one day she would die, thinking that her grandson was exactly who he seemed to be.

She already didn’t know so much about him. It wouldn’t be that different.

The alarm on his phone went off, warning him to leave before he missed the bus, otherwise, he would have to walk and then he would be late.

“Sorry Nan, I got to go.”

He put his cup in the empty sink and walked back into his room to pick up his bag. It was heavy with the textbooks he needed for the day and he sped up getting out the door, not wanting to lug the extra weight all the way to school if he missed the bus.

“Already?” he could hear her grumbling under her breath.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I’ll ring you later in the week, okay.” Minho struggled with locking the door with one hand. His dance bag which was slung over his shoulder slipped down.

“Don’t leave it as long as you did last time. It’s lonely sometimes, for an old woman like me.” She worded it like she was joking, but Minho could tell she really meant it. She was suffering with how long Minho was leaving it between calls and the extended periods between visits.

“I’ll visit you in person soon. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” His nan snapped but this time Minho knew she was joking.

“Nan, I really have to go,” Minho said into the phone, reaching the last steps down to the ground floor and pushing the front door open.

“Goodbye darling, study hard, be diligent, talk to that girl.”

“Bye Nan.” Minho hung up, ignoring her last words, and shoving the device in his pocket.

Fuck he liked Jisung.

Jisung.

Han Jisung.

“I like Jisung.” He whispered to himself, his mouth unconsciously forming a smile.

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. Love and hate were often so intertwined it was impossible to differentiate between the two.

Jisung wasn’t special. Minho had fallen for people more times than he would care to admit, and it never ended well.

First was the boy in his ballet class when he was seven. He could turn longer than anyone else and Minho adored him. His mum used to make jokes about how attached they were, and Minho would laugh because he didn’t understand what the butterflies meant. He moved away half a year later and Minho didn’t find out until he had already gone. Of course, he cried but by the afternoon the tears had dried and he had mostly gotten over his pain.

Not the second, but the next notable crush was just after he had moved to his Nan’s town. Minho was at his darkest here and Minho didn’t like remembering the terrible person he was there. But amongst it all was Kiwoo. Kiwoo was dangerous in the way he didn’t seem to be. While Minho was learning to fight Kiwoo already knew. He taught Minho to scare people and survive on the streets, he taught Minho how to grow from his pain and that Minho’s love was never a good thing.

Minho was old enough to understand that he didn’t see girls in the way the world wanted him to and understood that society hated him for it. Kiwoo was supposed to be different though. He was supposed to love the opposite to what he was allowed to, and that should’ve meant Minho. But it didn’t and Minho’s confession ended badly. Very badly. Minho got his heart ripped out. Kiwoo took the blame and got kicked out from home.

Minho learnt that loving people never ended well. It ended up hurting everybody.

He didn’t want to hurt Jisung, he didn’t trust himself not to. So, as the bus arrived and Minho got on, he decided Jisung could never know. Minho was used to keeping secrets, keeping things to himself, where they could hurt no one else while slowly tear him apart.

Jisung was panicking and he couldn’t explain to anyone why.

Deaun.

Deaun.

Deaun…

She had messaged the day before, but with the excitement of their progression in the competition, Jisung had elected to ignore it. Ignoring things was always so much easier than confronting them.

_Sungie! I was hoping you would like to come out to eat sometime with me. I have a friend Lia, who I think you would get along with great, she would love to meet up with you xxx_

Her message had been left un-replied to, as Jisung ignored, preferring to not let it affect the previous day's good mood. How his decision was folding in on him, crushing him with anxiety and stress.

In the early morning, before Jisung had woken up, Deaun sent another message. He hadn’t opened his phone until he was already at school, not having had time before leaving as he had woken up late.

_6.40: I heard you got to the next stage of a competition? That’s fantastic! Very exciting. You must introduce me to the other members one day, I would love to meet them. Are you okay to meet still, the times up to you, I’m sure you’re very busy?_

Jisung’s grip on his phone was incredibly tight. He wasn’t ready to face Deaun. He wasn’t ready for her kindness, her love, her pity, her false assumptions that he loved her and her attempts to fix his heartbreak. He wasn’t ready for any of it. Not even close.

From the other side of the table, Felix looked over at him, worry painted across his face. Jisung smiled at him weakly, before looking back down at the phone.

Shit

Shit

Shit

He also wasn’t prepared to hurt her. He couldn’t say no, he couldn’t lie and say he couldn’t make it because Deaun had shaped her own schedule around Jisung.

He would have loved to ignore this message too, but truly he wouldn’t. Guilt that had built up over years was eating him away. He couldn’t run from his problems forever.

Sometimes the hardest path is the one worth taking.

Tommy wasn’t going to be there anyway.

_8.15: Yeah, sure thing, I’ll get back to you about when_

Minho received Jisung’s message while he was on the bus and he though his heart was going to explode. He squeaked quietly and held the screen against his chest.

_8.17: Meet me out the front of school_

The girl sitting in front of him turned her head to look back, startled, and judgmental. Minho raised his eyebrows and smiled in the way he knew unnerved people and the girl turned back around, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Minho placed the palm of his hands against his cheek and wasn’t surprised to find them warm and no doubt flushed. It was a talent, Minho admitted to himself, managing to scare people while blushing like a thirteen-year-old girl. He had Kiwoo to thank for that.

Jisung was sitting under the lemon tree out the front of the school and didn’t get up as Minho approached.

“You messaged,” Minho called out the obvious across the grass. His voice faltered as Jisung looked over, his face pale and eyes wide with panic. Jisung nodded.

“I need help.” He looked up at Minho through his eyelashes. The way girls did when they were flirting and wanted something. Minho didn’t think it was intentional, but the resemblance was there. His heartbeat unusually fast.

He didn’t sit down yet.

“Ok.”

Jisung curled in on himself, already defensive, as if expecting Minho to attack.

“You told me to come to you for help and I can’t go to anyone else for this situation otherwise they’ll know too.” His voice was high pitched and fast-paced.

Minho crouched down and gently rested his hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, I’ll help.” He whispered calmingly and softly rubbed Jisung’s shoulder.

Jisung was shaking under his hand. He was terrified.

“I’m not going to do anything to hurt you.” Minho lied through his teeth and moved his hand to cup Jisung’s cheek and turn his head so Jisung faced him. He couldn’t promise that his actions would never hurt him, not when he was so terrified of it himself. Jisung’s eyes were wide and afraid, but it wasn’t Minho who was scaring him.

“You can trust me with this.”

Jisung nodded slowly and Minho brought his hand away from Jisung’s cheek.

“I need you to come with me to meet Deaun,” Jisung whispered down to his shoes.

“You’re meeting Deaun?” Minho asked surprised, “But last time... you know.”

Jisung flinched.

“Yeah, I know. But I hurt her, and she deserves me to try at least.” Jisung pulled on the grass, digging his nails into the dirt.

Minho wanted to know what he meant but decided it wasn’t his place to ask. He didn’t want a repeat of last time he had pushed Jisung to say something he didn’t want to. Instead, he asked,

“So, why do you want me there?”

Minho thought that was a fair question. Jisung was still scared of him, wasn’t he? Maybe not so much anymore.

Jisung sighed like he didn’t really want to answer.

“She going to introduce me to a girl, and I don’t trust her not to leave us alone and I don’t want that. With you there, she’ll have no reason to because you’ll still be there even if she does.”

“Oh,” Minho said simply, his heart was beating ridiculously fast.

“Yeah, oh,” Jisung replied sadly.

“Why is she introducing you to a girl?” Minho sat down on the grass next to him. He realised that his jaw was clenched and consciously relaxed it.

Jisung shrugged.

“She thinks I’m still in love with her.” He was trying to sound casual but the way his fist clenched suggested anything but. He tipped his head back and swallowed. Minho stared at the heart shape of his adam's apple and swallowed too.

“You were in love with her?” Minho asked quietly, his grip on the edge of his shorts was unusually tight.

Jisung sighed again.

“No. But she thinks I was.”

“Oh.” Minho pulled out a piece of grass and balanced it on Jisung’s knee. “Can’t you just tell her that you’re not?”

“No.” Jisung pulled out his own piece of grass and put it on Minho’s shoulder. “Because she thinks that’s the reason I left, and if I tell her it means that I’ll have to explain the truth.”

“Oh,” Minho repeated. “And what’s the truth?”

“I thought you weren’t going to ask any more questions?” Jisung frowned and Minho shrugged.

“One more. Why me? Why not Hyunjin or someone?”

“I don’t want them to know.” Jisung brushed the grass of his knee and Minho pouted. “You already do, so there isn’t any harm.”

Minho got that. It was hard to pretend your actions in the past didn’t exist when everybody knew about them.

“Oh. Okay then.” Minho didn’t know what the answer Jisung wanted was, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Maybe he just wanted Jisung to tell him that enjoyed spending time with him. Maybe he just wanted Jisung to admit the things that Minho was too scared to.

“So, you’ll do it?” Jisung stood up and offered his hand out to Minho. He looked nervous.

“What day?” Minho excepted the hand and Jisung pulled him up. They ended slightly to close together and Jisung’s eyes widened but he didn’t step away.

“Whenever you can make it,” Jisung said breathlessly, they were still holding hands, but Minho didn’t really want to let go. Jisung looked incredibly pretty this close. He looked incredibly pretty far away too.

“How about Saturday for lunch.” Minho had dance Saturday mornings and therefore didn’t work until the evening.

“Deal,” Jisung whispered and he looked like he was about to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that didn't feel too soon.  
> I made an Instagram account! It's probably not going to be used to much but I will upload any SKZ art I do there. I'm not a fantastic artist mind you, but I do try and I'm getting better as I go. At the moment I've uploaded one picture that I drew of Felix's Tower of God makeup. Give me a follow if you want @babybear.skz.  
> Also, please comment. I've been lacking motivation to write recently and your comments really make me want to do well for you guys. Also, I miss you :(


	24. Chapter 24 (This is the end)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse of why it's been this long.  
> I guess it hasn't been that bad, but I had planned on getting this out a couple of days ago, so to me, it feels like I've taken ages.   
> Originally this chapter was supposed to be the lunch with Deaun, but I wanted to include some backstory and got carried away, to the point it would be way too long if I included anything else.  
> And just a warning that this chapter is a bit more in-depth with mental illness and there are mentions of abuse so if these things are triggering please don't read.

_Five years ago_

_Minho’s grieving had turned to anger._

_The clouded days of misery transformed into storms and wild seas that tore up the earth. His heart ached with the loss, but his vision burned red and his blood flowed the same shade._

_The town was too small and his nan and no control of the young teenager who had lost everything. Minho ran rampage and destroyed himself in the process._

_He was thirteen, lying on the pavement, in a town where he didn’t know the names of the roads. The blood from his own body, flowing from the anguish caused wounds, stained the concrete._

_He was thirteen, with no will to live, and caring the guilt of survival._

_He was falling._

_And in the process, he discovered the darkness behind every smiling face._

_He would disappear for days. School wasn’t an issue as he wasn’t enrolled until the beginning of the next term. The town was good for disappearing. The hills and woods on the outskirts weren’t dangerous, but they were easy to hide in, and if Minho went in far enough, he could pretend that he was the only person in the world. It was lonely and felt a little bit like dying._

_His nan worried endlessly, but Minho couldn’t find it within himself to care. The world was collapsing around him, and it was impossible not to be selfish in his grief. It might have not crossed his mind in that first six months that his nan was also grieving. Watching the burial of one’s daughter was a toll on the soul that should be experienced by no one. But Minho was thirteen, the world was unfair, and he couldn’t see other’s pain behind the red filter of madness._

_He got into his first fight three days before his fourteenth birthday, and two months after moving._

_He was stupid, thought nothing could hurt him more than he already was. He was wrong of course and he left the fight having clearly lost and with a black eye and bruised ribs. The older boy took it easy on him it seemed, having taken pity on the boy who already had tears in his eyes before the first punch was thrown._

_Minho had lost, but he craved the freedom the fight had given him. It felt ridiculously good to inflict his pain on someone else and simultaneously tear himself apart. It felt like dancing the line of death. Maybe, if he were lucky, someone would make a mistake and that’s exactly how he would end up, buried, dead. There was nothing here for him anymore._

_His nan suggested taking up ballet again, and as much as Minho missed dancing the idea made him feel sick. A studio which was not his mothers, a teacher who didn’t have her smile, none of it was right and even the suggestion made Minho want to throw up._

_Lots of things made him feel that way these days._

_The new sprouts on the trees, the birds singing and the tiny flowers that sprouted in the grass. The mothers holding their kid’s hands and guiding them into the school. The cars parked on the side of the road. All of it. It made his heart beat faster and his breathing become shallow and irregular. It made his stomach flip and his nails dig into the palm of his hands, drawing blood._

_The world was collapsing around him, and Minho was done being sad. He wanted to destroy the earth and he didn’t care if it took him down with him._

_He sought out more fights and struggled to find them. He didn’t know what he was doing, he just wanted that momentary relief that the first fight had gifted him._

_He was fourteen, muscular, though his slim frame didn’t show it, he was hardly intimidating and the few teenagers he found obviously didn’t see him as a threat. He wasn’t worth their time and Minho knew he needed their attention._

_They were aware of him; he was sure of it. Everybody was. The town was small enough that most people paid attention to someone new, especially when they were mad with grieving. It was just a question of making them think he was more than a sad little boy._

_That never happened._

_Instead, Minho found them through dancing, something he thought he had given up forever._

_Every now and then, the unbearable quiet of the town would be broken by the distant music that emanated from various spots. Minho would hang out the window of his room, listening for the source. It sounded like a heartbeat from far away, like a live animal, angry and feral._

_His nan grumbled about it over dinner one night, when the music was closer, and Minho could hear more details of the heavy beat. Minho didn’t say anything._

_“It’s such a shame,” His nan sighed, “they’re such talented boys with so much potential.” Minho hummed, only listening a little._

_“I’m sure some of them could be idol dancers if they were put on the right path,” Minho’s ears perked up, “But they had to go waste their talent with these underground shenanigans. Fighting and dancing shouldn’t be intertwined as they have.” She tutted sadly and went back to chewing on her food. Minho couldn’t eat a bite more._

_His interest in the music became obsessive with the new information. His exposer to dance had always been proper and elegant. He was taught to move with strength and grace, he was taught to be proud and delicate. By the sounds of it, this music leads to a type of dance that was anything but. By the sounds of it, this music would lead to the fighting and freedom Minho had been searching for._

_He excused himself from the table, claiming to need the bathroom. His nan nodded, not looking up from her plate._

_Minho stepped into the hallway, but instead of turning left towards the bedrooms and bathrooms, he turned right standing directly in front of the front door. His red jacket hung on the hook above the shoe rack and he pulled it on. The spare keys rattled in the pocket. As quietly as possible Minho slipped into his worn pair of sneakers, they squeaked on the wooden floor, but his nans hearing was fading, and Minho doubted she would have caught the disruption._

_Outside was cold, it always was here. Fog settled over the hills, covering the sleeping down in a blanket of clouds. Minho hated how low the sky felt here. It was suffocating._

_The music became more and more audible as Minho followed to sound down the street. It was coming from nearer to the centre of the town, past the housing and in amongst the shops. Minho hadn’t really explored this area as much, having preferred heading out of the town and towards the hills, but he was familiar enough with the general layout of the buildings._

_The music was coming from the car park underneath the main department store. It was open enough to show they didn’t care about being found but tucked away enough to make it feel separated from the rest of the town._

_Minho entered from the far side. There was a group of about twelve boys in the middle, surrounded by beat-up cars, alcohol, and a haze of smoke. The music was coming from a large speaker balanced on the hood of one of the vehicles. Here the noise was deafening. Minho loved it._

_No one saw him at first, and as he drew closer his confidence plummeted. He hesitated in the darkness, worried what stepping into the light of their headlights could entail. They looked older than him, Minho had expected that._   
_Minho guessed that the guy sitting on the roof of one of the cars was the oldest. Perched up there he looked like a king. He had a tattoo showing through the armholes of his tank top; he looked intimidating. Still, he didn’t really feel like an adult. Minho guessed twenty-two at most, but he was always bad at guessing ages._

_The boy sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the concrete columns had to be the youngest. He looked… softer… than the others. He was wearing a headband pushing the dark hair back, and an oversized white t-shirt, that made him look significantly smaller than he probably was. Another boy stole the drink out of Headbands hand and Headband pouted, whining for him to give it back._

_Yep, definitely the youngest._

_Still, older than Minho, by a couple of years at least._

_Headband got his drink back and settled happily against the column again. The other boy ruffled his hair, causing the headband to slip down his forehead and cover his eyes._

_Headband pushed it back up and his eyes locked with Minho’s. Maybe wearing red hadn’t been the best idea. Minho stepped backwards, not entirely sure whether to make a run for it. Headband’s mouth formed a smile, it was dangerous and alluring. It was attractive and terrifying. Minho got why his nan said they could be idol dancers; Headband definitely had the looks for it._

_He giggled and gestured for Minho to come forwards. The others followed Headband’s gaze and Minho stepped into the light with everyone’s attention directed at him. He tried to remain tall under the weight of their watch._

_“Isn’t that the kid who punched you?” Someone sitting on the bonnet of a car asked and his friend grumbled in response. Minho flinched with surprise, recognising the older teen he had fought, and lost too, a couple of weeks earlier._

_“Yeah, strong punch didn’t have a clue what he was doing though.”_

_“Hey!” Minho defended himself, “I can fight.” He hadn’t realised how high his voice would sound._

_“Cute.” One of the boys cooed and the others laughed. Minho didn’t want to be seen as cute._

_“No, you can’t.”_

_They laughed again. The volume of the music was lowered to a level where they didn’t have to yell to be heard._

_“Can you dance?” Headband asked. He sounded kind but Minho couldn’t be sure._

_Minho nodded his head slowly._

_“Really?” The boy who was sitting on top of the car, the one who Minho had guessed to be the oldest, asked, leaning forwards, “Let’s see it.”_

_Minho blushed. He knew they weren’t looking for ballet, but it was all he had to offer, and he was desperate. He kicked off his shoes, causing the older boys to raise their eyebrows. He swallowed and stepped forwards._

_Spinning was always impressive. Even people who knew nothing about dance could appreciate the technique and skill it required. Spinning had always been a strength of his._

_The concrete was cold though his socks._

_1_

_2_

_3_

_He couldn’t go up on his toes without his shoes, which he had burned, but he knew that he could make it look almost as impressive just spinning on the ball of his foot. The heavy hip hop music contrasted starkly with the elegance that was required to make the turn look easy._

_His surroundings fell in and out of focus as he spotted in front of him, keeping eye contact with Headband. He wasn’t sure how many times he spun around, struggling to keep count himself. Minho was sure it wasn’t the best he’d ever done but knew it was enough to impress someone who hadn’t done ballet for more than a couple of years._

_It felt wrong performing ballet and not having his mum there to congratulate on the parts he had done right and mentioning the things to refine._

_“Ballet?” A boy scoffed and his friend hit him across the chest._

_“Do you know how much strength and training that takes?!”_

_Minho tried to hide his smile; he had their attention._

_Everybody turned to the boy sitting on the car, it seemed like his judgment would shape the opinion of the whole group._

_“Can you flip?” He asked after a moment of silence._

_Minho nodded._

_One of his mum’s friends was a contemporary dancer and he had taught the class a couple of times. The boys, including Minho, had always enjoyed these special lessons as tumbling was possibly the most exciting thing to a little dancer. Tumbling was a skill that you could show off to your school friends and they would still be impressed._

_He probably should have started with that._

_He flew into a series of flips without giving the teenagers a moment to register what was happening. They weren’t overly complicated ones as Minho didn’t want to risk making a mistake on the hard floor. Especially since it had been a while and the chance of errors were high._

_He stopped just before flipping out the circle of cars. One of the boys whistled as Minho walked back to the centre, whipping his hands on the thigh of his jeans._

_Headband grinned at him and gave him a little thumbs up. Minho smiled back shyly._

_His confidence was growing._

_“But you can’t dance hip hop? No breakdancing, nothing for the streets?” The leader on the car asked his voice heavy with criticism. Minho’s cheeks burst aflame with embarrassment. He shook his head._

_“He can’t fight either.” Another boy added and Minho’s head dropped._

_This was it._

_This was the end._

_“He can learn though; can’t he?” Headband asked tilting his head to the side. Minho’s head snapped up._

_“I can learn.” He confirmed quickly but the others seemed unconvinced._

_“He’s strong, determined as hell, stupidly brave,” Headband counted the statements on his fingers, “and those flips were sick.” He grinned and the others laughed. They had a soft spot for him, Minho could tell._

_“I’m a fast learner.” Minho added quietly, “Please.”_

_“Either we take him, or he’d end up with the Eastsiders.”_

_The leader sighed._

_“Fine. Kiwoo, you’re in charge of him.”_

_Headband cheered. Kiwoo?_

_“You’re mine Baby! You hear that!”_

_Definitely Kiwoo._

_Minho was pulled into a rough hug, which he reluctantly allowed._

_“You’re gonna be my little prodigy._

_It was understandable that everybody was doubtful of him at first. He was barely a teenager, five foot four, and had a curfew of eight-thirty, not that Minho ever stuck to it. But it was only a matter of time._

_Minho hadn’t been lying when he said he was a quick learner and Kiwoo took his job as a teacher very seriously._

_Everyday Kiwoo would meet Minho at the school gate and together they would make their way to whatever location the crew had picked for the night. They were always the first there and Kiwoo would teach Minho how to blend his grace with power, how to relax his movement, both how to fight and how to dance._

_He didn’t need to teach Minho how to be a fighter, Minho already was._

_He was fearless, he had nothing to lose._

_Kiwoo would fight Minho for practice and quickly stopped going easy on him. Kiwoo was much better than Minho was at first and it very clearly wasn’t a fair fight. Minho would lose again and again, but every punch he threw felt like ecstasy, every wound he gained felt deserved._

_“You love the pain, don’t you Baby, fucking phsyco,” Kiwoo said, looking down at Minho, who was lying on the cracked tarmac. Minho rolled onto his side, his chest shaking with silent laughter._

_A month later Minho beat him for the first time._

_Kiwoo had kicked him in the stomach and Minho had stumbled backwards with the force, not reacting to the pain. It was clear in that moment that Kiwoo had thought he had won, but Minho didn’t give up. He lunged forwards and grabbed the fabric of Kiwoo’s cargo pants, twisting the cotton in his fists. Before Kiwoo could register what he had done, Minho pulled towards him with all his might. Kiwoo’s legs were pulled out from underneath him and he fell backwards, flat on the pavement, all the air knocked out his lungs._

_In the end, that’s what made Minho lethal. He didn’t care how bad the odds were, he didn’t care if his opponent was a good three time larger, he didn’t care about the bruises, the cuts or the pain._

_It was all a little closer to dying._

_He had nothing to lose, he didn’t care about the rules._

_To his crew, he was Baby or Baby Min, but to everybody else, he was who they should fear. Or as Kiwoo put it, Fucking Physco._

_The boys weren’t as intimidating as Minho had first perceived, but they were far from gentle, even if they all had a soft spot for the two youngest._

_Minho was a scrappy fighter, and one day, when they were back in the underground car park where he had first found them, his shirt ripped revealing the scar across his collarbone._

_“Wow” Kiwoo breathed, stepping forward to trace the pale line. His touch was cool on the warm skin of Minho’s chest._

_Yunmin, who Minho had been fighting bent down beside Kiwoo to examine it too, but his presence didn’t make Minho’s heartbeat nearly as fast._

_“That’s an impressive scar Baby Min. Where you get it?”_

_“Car crash,” Minho muttered, wincing slightly with the memory. Kiwoo seemed to sense his discomfort and stepped back, quickly lifting his hand from Minho’s skin._

_Hansol, the leader, peered at it from his seat on the bonnet of his old rust coloured car. He scoffed playfully._

_“That’s not a scar, this is a scar.” He lifted his shirt to show a jagged scar running up the side of his stomach. Unlike Minho’s the tissue was lumpy and pink, it looked terrifying._

_“Knife fight when I was seventeen,” Hansol explained, he sounded proud. “I won of course, but the little bitch left me with this beauty.”_

_Minho stared at him with wide eyes._

_“Did – Did he, did he die?” Minho stuttered and Hansol laughed. Kiwoo giggled and pulled Minho into a hug, holding his back against Kiwoo’s chest._

_“No Baby.” Hansol chuckled, “Knocked him out, he was drunk, didn’t deserve that.”_

_“We’re not killers Minnie,” Kiwoo whispered in Minho’s ear. His breath was warm on the side of Minho’s cheek. “We could if we needed to though,” He laughed darkly, and Minho felt chills travel down his spine, “Keep that in mind.”_

_It wasn’t a secret that other crews targeted him. He was small and young, a seemingly easy fight, but he fucked them up, and they hated it._

_Sometimes boys from other crews would wait for him and Kiwoo outside of school. Those were Minho’s favourite fights. The ones unplanned and unprompted, there were no leaders to pull them apart, no rules, no too far._

_So, maybe Kiwoo’s words had been reassurance of their protection over him, rather than a threat._

_Minho took a little longer to pick up the dancing compared to the fighting. He looked too poised, he couldn’t relax into his movement, he looked uncomfortable even after he knew the moves back to front._

_It frustrated Kiwoo endlessly._

_“Sit into it!” He called out and Minho repeated the move._

_“Bend your knees more.”_

_He did it again._

_And again,_

_And again._

_Kiwoo sighed and rubbed his forehead._

_“Stop worrying about being perfect! I don’t get you Baby; dance the way you fight, forget the rules, do what feels right.”_

_“I’m trying,” Minho growled and Kiwoo let out an exasperated sigh,_

_“That’s the point! Stop trying, stop thinking, just move.”_

_So, Minho stopped thinking._

_He moved._

_He took a step forwards and wrapped his hands in Kiwoo’s hair, pulling him forwards and crashing their lips together. Kiwoo’s lips were soft on his._

_“Good,” Kiwoo whispered, pulling away slightly, “Stop thinking.”_

_Minho nodded and leaned forwards to kiss him again, but Kiwoo stepped back._

_“Now dance.”_

_So, Minho did._

_He danced until his body cried for relief. He learned how to make it look easy and powerful. He learned how to physically represent music and embody the attitude of a song._

_He danced as he fought. Unpredictable and beautiful, hitting hard, a mix of power and grace. He scared people yet they couldn’t look away._

_For two years that was Minho’s life._

_The hate inside him burned red hot and the only relief was throwing punches and getting his head knocked in. To see his own blood spill over the road felt deserved, watching it seep into the pavement was satisfying in the darkest way possible._

_He became a fucking good dancer and a phenomenal fighter._

_Unfortunately, he also became undeniably infatuated with Kiwoo._

_As they aged Kiwoo only became more and more beautiful. His hair lengthened over time until it was necessary for him to wear a headband otherwise the dark strands would fall into his eyes, obstructing his vision. When he danced it would become drenched with sweat and the choppy strands would glisten in the light of their cars. He was stunning and deadly. Minho was unbelievably in love and it was terrifying._

_Kiwoo had given something to lose._

_Kiwoo had made him think there was light in the darkness._

_Kiwoo had given him something he couldn’t keep._

_And Minho had lost him._

_It was always hard to understand how Kiwoo was feeling. He was unreadable and had taught Minho how to be the same. He grinned like he knew all your secrets and when he was mad his whole face would shut down. Eventually, Minho became able to identify the fire hiding behind his eye, but for the most part, Kiwoo was able to become a complete mystery._

_He allowed Minho to fall into his arms, excepting his affection and returning it to some extent. It was infuriating, to have Kiwoo in his grasp, yet being unable to determine if his desires were reciprocated._

_In retrospect, maybe it hadn’t mattered if Kiwoo did feel the same, maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference._

_It hadn’t felt like the end. Not until the moment when everything fell apart._

_Just before he turned sixteen Minho’s nan cornered him in his room, blocking the door with her tiny body._

_“You’re getting a scholarship.” She said and threw a flyer onto his bed. Minho ignored it. He had no desire to do well at school, he had no reason for a scholarship._

_She sensed his disinterest,_

_“It’s a dance school, back in the city.”_

_Minho’s head turned sharply._

_“What?”_

_“This dance school, it’s offering to pay for all dance lessons and forty percent of schooling fees provided that the student is not failing any classes.” She pointed at the flyer on the bed. “You’re getting it.”_

_Minho stared at the paper. The opportunity was unlikely to present itself again, but it seemed impossible that he, with no formal training in the last two years, could possibly snatch the only available spot_   
_._   
_He grabbed the flyer and stuffed it in his pocket._

_“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, pushing past his nan and out the room._

_He showed it to Kiwoo, whose reaction was hard to understand. Minho didn’t know what he was expecting; what had he wanted? Did he want Kiwoo to support him, tell him that he was good enough, that he had to take this opportunity? Or did he want Kiwoo to wrap his arms around Minho, and cry, telling him that he couldn’t go, couldn’t leave him?_

_Kiwoo did neither. He just smiled softly, or maybe sadly, and handed Minho back the flyer._

_“I’ll help you film your audition.”_

_Maybe Kiwoo’s world was crumbling too._

_The next few weeks were the worst. Minho didn’t know if he should be hopeful or dread his potential success. The city was calling, excitement boiled in his veins, the dream he didn’t know he had was within his grasp, but at the back of his mind was a little voice, whispering with all the memories Minho wanted to forget. He hadn’t wanted to exist, and his entire identity had become tied to this place and these people. If he left who would he be?_

_In the back of his mind the idea of leaving made him feel sick._

_The idea of leaving Kiwoo felt like tearing his soul out._

_On his sixteenth birthday, Kiwoo took him up the hills. Minho knew the path like the back of his hand, but with Kiwoo beside him, it felt foreign. Minho couldn’t help but view each turn, tree, view, from the possible perspective of the boy beside him. The world was so much lovelier through someone else’s eyes._

_Kiwoo through himself down on the benched and grinned out at the town laid out below them. The sun hung low in the sky casting golden light over the hilltop, underneath it Kiwoo looked like an angel._

_Minho sat down beside him. Kiwoo’s eyes were glued to the sunset, but Minho couldn’t look away from the older boy. For the briefest moments, the storm inside his heart died down and the sea was calm. The sun cast soft shadows over Kiwoo’s face, amplifying the harsh cut of his jaw and cheekbones, Minho couldn’t help but reach out and trace them._

_Kiwoo slowly turned his head to the side, and Minho gently dropped his hand. If it didn’t feel like the end, maybe Minho would have been embarrassed. Kiwoo’s eyes were softened with sadness, in his dark pupils, Minho could see his own longing reflected._

_“Baby,” Kiwoo whispered and Minho could feel tears threatening to build up behind his eyes._

_“I got the scholarship,” Minho whispered back as Kiwoo reached out and gently wrapped his hand around Minho’s wrist._

_“I know,” Kiwoo smiled softly, bringing Minho’s hand up to his face and kissing the palm._

_Minho stared at him, his lips parting._

_“You look so sad about it.” Kiwoo laughed, but it sounded more heart-breaking than funny. He brought Minho’s hand to his cheek and leaned into it._

_Minho blinked tears out his eyes, his vision of the hilltop distorted by the water for a moment._

_“I leave next Tuesday.” Minho’s voice cracked with the threat of a sob._

_“Will you miss me?” Kiwoo asked and Minho broke apart completely, the delicate string, that had been holding him together, finally snapped._

_“Don’t cry,” Kiwoo pulled Minho up onto his lap and Minho buried his face into the crook of Kiwoo’s neck. Kiwoo rubbed his back and pressed kisses into his hair._

_“You’re starting towards your dreams, don’t regret leaving us behind,” Kiwoo whispered, but to Minho, it sounded like he was crying too._

_Minho pulled back and stared at Kiwoo’s face. It was splotchy with the beginning of tears, but Minho didn’t think anybody had ever looked this incredible._

_“Can I kiss you?” Minho asked, his voice thick with emotion. Kiwoo swallowed and his eyes flickered down to Minho’s lips before nodding._

_“Yeah,”_

_Minho leaned forwards, Kiwoo’s hands in his hair and his own cupping Kiwoo’s face. Their kiss was soft, gentle as if they were afraid of breaking each other. There was no hunger, only regret and heartbreak._

_“Kiwoo, I love you,” Minho whispered and beneath him, Kiwoo froze for a moment._

_“Don’t love me, please.” Kiwoo’s hands fell down Minho’s frame and came to settle on Minho’s waist, but he still held him as close. “Don’t make this harder than it already is. Don’t love me. Don’t miss me.” He chuckled sadly._   
_“Don’t cry for me. Leave, go chase your dreams, forget me. Please.”_

_The world fell apart as Minho and Kiwoo held each other._

_They stumbled down the hill in each other’s arms, tears refusing to slow their fall._

_Maybe it was all falling. They were clinging to the ends of a disappearing moment. Fighting an uphill battle. They were in love with the impossible._

_Minho wasn’t sure if either of them were thinking, probably not, because they ended up curled up together in Kiwoo’s bed. Kiwoo held Minho’s head against his chest and sung softly until Minho’s sobs subsided and he slowly drifted into a dreamless sleep._

_If their world was ending, here was the moment that there was no return._

_It was the moment that signified they were never going to be who they were._

_It was the moment that destroyed them._

_Minho was woken to the sound of the door swinging open and loudly crashing into the wall behind it. Beside him, he could feel Kiwoo stirring. Sleepily he looked over to the door, where Kiwoo’s oldest brother was staring at them, his mother standing just behind._

_“Get the fuck out.” Kiwoo’s brother crossed the room in a matter of strides, grabbed Minho’s wrist in a harsh, tight hold and ripped him out of Kiwoo’s grasp. The blanket fell off his body, the air inside the room cold, even though his clothes._

_“No!” Minho cried, reaching out and clawing at the bedsheets in a desperate attempt to return to Kiwoo’s side._

_“Let him go!” Kiwoo yelled, jumping up and grabbing onto Minho’s arm. Minho cried out in pain as he was pulled two different directions and Kiwoo let go in shock._

_“Fagot!” Kiwoo’s brother spat at him and Kiwoo recoiled. Minho had never seen him look so tiny, so intimidated._

_“Don’t hurt him,” Kiwoo whispered, stepping backwards, away from his brother. “It was my fault.”_

_Kiwoo’s mother stepped forwards towards him and Kiwoo flinched. She was a tiny woman, thin and short. She was one of the least intimidating people Minho had ever seen, but from the way Kiwoo was making himself as small as possible, it was clear he was terrified of her._

_“Do you love him?” Her voice was deadly calm, but even Minho could detect the threat._

_Kiwoo’s back hit the wall and he shrunk to the floor. He looked up at Minho and for once Minho could read the message behind them._

_Goodbye._

_“Yes,” Kiwoo mumbled, “I love him.”_

_Minho’s breath caught in his throat._

_Kiwoo’s mother took two strides forwards. The room was deadly quiet apart from the harsh click of her heels on the wooden floor and Minho’s distraught breathing. There was a pause where everything seemed to slow down._   
_‘This is it,’ Minho thought, ‘this is the end.”_

_Kiwoo’s mother sighed loudly as if this was all just an incredible inconvenience to her. Then she slapped him._

_Kiwoo crumbled under her hand, collapsing into a heap on the floor._

_“No!” Minho cried, throwing his body forwards, but Kiwoo’s brother was stronger than he was._

_“Get him out.” Kiwoo’s mother spat and Minho was dragged through the doorway._

_“No,” He whimpered and the grip on his wrist tightened painfully._

_No_

_No_

_No_

_This is the end._

_Minho was thrown out the front door onto the pavement. His head collided with the pavers and for a moment the world spun. He rolled onto his back and squeezed his eyes shut, the tiny movement making his head throb._

_No_

_The front door slammed as Kiwoo’s brother went back inside. Minho’s skin stung where the top layer had been taken off, but it didn’t seem to be bleeding. Slowly, he sat up. He was so incredibly disorientated and as he rose his vison faltered for a second, darkening around the edges._

_No_

_Through the window, he could see Kiwoo’s brother watching from behind the curtains. Minho climbed to his feet, which were bare as his shoes and bag were inside the house. He stumbled slightly and brought his hand to his head. Even the slightest touch sent hot red waves of pain through his body, but his hand came away dry of blood._

_The walk from Kiwoo’s to his nans wasn’t long, but with the constant threat of fainting and the knowledge of leaving Kiwoo at the hands of his family, it felt like a millennium. The sun had properly risen by the time he collapsed in the front hallway of his house. His nan was out, and the house was deadly silent._

_This is the end._

_As his vision faded once again, Minho laughed, deranged, and broken. He rolled on the floor, his body on fire with pain and heartbreak._

_Maybe he’d gotten his death wish._

_Minho came around in the afternoon. His nan hadn’t come home yet, and the house was still and unnerving._

_He pushed open the door, not bothering with putting on shoes, and stepped outside. Yunmin was standing at the end of the garden path leaning on the letterbox, waiting for him._

_“Yunmin.” Minho pushed past the older boy, but Yunmin grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around the younger._

_“Baby, you can’t.” He whispered soothingly as Minho broke down in his arms._

_“I have to see him.” Minho sobbed, pushing against Yunmin’s chest._

_“You can’t,” Yunmin, rubbed his shoulders, “It will only make it worse.”_

_It was the end._

_Kiwoo was sent to America to live with his aunt and her husband. Minho never saw him again._

_‘Don’t make this harder than it already is. Don’t love me. Don’t miss me’_

_Minho moved back to the city. He started his dance scholarship, he started his new school, he made new friends. After a while, he realised that he didn’t love Kiwoo anymore, and more guilting, he didn’t miss him._

_He wondered if Kiwoo had moved on too._

_It had been the end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think?  
> I'm personally kind of upset that things didn't work out with Kiwoo, which sounds weird because this is a Minsung fic and I'm the author. I hope you enjoyed this little bit of backstory because I really enjoyed writing it xx.  
> Thank you for all your comments on the last chapter, they really helped me with being motivated to write this one.


	25. Chapter 25 (It hadn’t been a coincidence)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lia is in this.  
> I just wanted to clarify that the minor characters aren't based on idols, I've just, well, borrowed their name. My characters don't reflect idols in any way nor do they reflect my opinion of that specific person.  
> I just wanted to make that clear, especially since they are very likely to be out of character and I am likely to describe aspect of them as wrong as I am mostly unfamiliar with the people I am using.  
> Generally, I am just a fan of a group for the music and won't really learn the member's personalities. Stray Kids is an exception of course. That's why they aren't going to be how they are in real life.

Jisung’s hands were clenched inside the pockets of his jacket, hidden away from the world's view. The neon lights of the diner reflected on the wet tarmac, distorting as Jisung stepped in the puddle.

It was high end for a diner, the sort of place that sold deconstructed sandwiches, but nowhere near the level of class that Deaun was known to pick. Lunch wasn’t going to be cheap, no doubt, but it wasn’t going to throw Jisung’s allowance under the bus as he had feared.

Through the window he could see Deaun already sitting in a booth, facing the door. A girl sat opposite her, but Jisung could only see the back of her head. Deaun said something and the girl’s shoulders shook with delicate laughter. She must have been Lia.

He hesitated before pushing the door open.

Breathe Jisung.

He pulled out his phone, mostly as an excuse not to enter quite yet. He only had one notification, a message from Minho that he had received an hour earlier and had already read.

  
_12.34: I’m going to be late, dance is running overtime._

Deaun saw him through the window and waved. Jisung forced himself to smile and waved back, hoping that the action didn’t look as sarcastic as it felt.

Jisung leant his body weight against the glass door, but it didn’t open. He pushed harder but it remained shut.

_‘Pull’_

The white cursive writing up the side of the wooden handle seemed obvious now he had seen it. Jisung flushed pink as Deaun giggled and the girl, Lia, turned around to watch, a small grin across her face.

The bell above the door chimed as Jisung finally stepped into the warmth of the shop and shook the summer rain out of his hair. An employee smiled at him from where she was wiping tables and Jisung lifted his hand in a weak greeting. Lia and Deaun stood up and walked out of the seats and into the open space by the entrance.

“Jisung!” Deaun called happily and skipped happily over to him. The ballet flats she was wearing clinked lightly on the vinyl floor.

“Hi, Deaun,” Jisung said a lot softer as Deaun pulled him into a quick hug. The sunglasses on her head stuck painfully into the skin of his neck.

She let him go and stepped back, taking him in once again, like she couldn’t quite believe he was there. Jisung didn’t blame her, he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“Would you look at him!” She exclaimed to Lia, who giggled uncomfortably, “My little Jisungie, all grown up!” She pinched his cheek and Jisung slapped her hand away playfully.

“Look at Deaun, all old and crusty!” Jisung joked gesturing to Deaun with the same enthusiasm, though he was clearly more sarcastic.

Lia giggled into the back of her hand as Deaun brought her hand to her heart in mock shock.

_Lia._

Jisung smiled at her softly and Lia smiled back. Jisung felt embarrassment creep up his neck.

She had bleached hair and a pretty smile that Jisung should have adored. She was very beautiful. Very proper, clothed in modest yet stylish designer clothes that drew the eyes of everybody in the room. She didn’t look like someone who would be interested in Jisung.

Jisung’s eyes must have lingered slightly too long and Deaun smirked.

“Hi” The blond girl squeaked nervously and waved awkwardly. Jisung mirrored her actions and Deaun smiled mistaking his uncomfortable fidgeting for butterflies.

Deaun really would get along well with Chan. They both cared for their friends more than life itself, they both meddled in business that wasn’t theirs to worry about.

“I’m Lia, I can’t remember if I introduced myself at the party.” The blond girl stepped forwards and offered him her hand. Jisung took it. Her nails were painted lavender and her hand felt tiny and delicate in his.

“Lia,” Jisung repeated. He didn’t remember meeting her but didn’t want to be rude and say that. “I’m Jisung.” Jisung didn’t know how long was natural to shake her hand for and let go a moment too late.

“Yeah, I know.” She giggled and Jisung smiled. She had a laugh that Jisung should have fallen for immediately and it seemed like Deaun thought he had. She smirked and elbowed Jisung playfully. Lia’s eyes flickered to the movement and then back up to Jisung’s face. She raised an eyebrow and Jisung squirmed uncomfortably.

There was an awkward silence where neither of them had anything to say and Deaun was just enjoying their nervousness. Jisung whipped the sweat of the palm of his hands on the sides of his jeans, he hoped they hadn’t been that damp when he had held Lia’s a moment before.

“When’s Minho coming?” Deaun asked glancing over at the door. Jisung followed her gaze.

“Not sure.”

“Who’s Minho?” Lia went up onto to toes of her bright white skate shoes to see over to where they were looking.

Jisung was about to explain but Deaun beat him to it.

“Jisung’s friend. He and I used to dance together when his Mum still ran the ballet studio.”

“Oh really?”

“He was at my party the other day; you might remember him.” Deaun continued, “He and Jisung were attached at the hip basically the whole night.”

Jisung forced out a laugh. Maybe this was a bad idea. He didn’t want to spend the whole afternoon being forced to remember something he would rather forget.

Lia was staring up at the roof in concentration.

“Lee Minho?” She finally looked back at the other two, her eyes showing her hesitation with the question.

“Hmm, yeah that him.” Deaun answered distractedly looking around the dinner, “How about we go sit over there? It’s closer to the heater; your hair would dry quicker.”

“Lee Minho?” Lia repeated, laughing nervously and Deaun nodded.

“Isn’t he kinda…” Lia trailed off and Jisung clenched his jaw.

“Isn’t he what?” Jisung didn’t mean to sound as aggressive as he did.

Lia blushed and her eyes fell to the floor.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for. I just meant that there is a lot of rumours floating around Minho and you never know which ones are true and just how much you should believe.” Lia took a breath to compose herself. “I’m sure he is a lovely man if you two are both friends with him, I shouldn’t jump to judge a person’s character without actually meeting them for myself.”

They both stared at her.

“Don’t apologise.” Deaun patted Lia’s shoulder lightly. “We both know that Minho holds, how should I put this, a certain reputation, and it’s only natural for you to have some unsavoury expectations.”

Lia smiled at her weakly and Jisung breathed in deeply. He was still angry at her judgment but couldn’t justify why. It wasn’t like he himself didn’t once have the same opinions on Minho and it wasn’t like Minho went out his way to disprove them.

They walked over to the free booth and sat down. Lai and Deaun sat on one side and Jisung sat on the other opposite Lia. His grip on the cushioning of the seats was uncomfortably tight. A waitress brought them menus and Jisung busied himself reading it to avoid joining in the girl’s conversation. Lia complimented Jisung on his songwriting and Jisung thanked her only to look back at the menu and let them continue without him.

Maybe he was being rude, but he couldn’t bring himself to charm her. He found himself wishing that Minho would just hurry up and get there.

Minho hand tapped on the floor of the dance studio impatiently. Hobi’s laptop played the video of their performance once again and once again Minho cringed at the obviousness of his mistakes, the slow-motion only drawing his attention more. Even more of a problem, Minho was nowhere near the worst.

Hobi paused the video again and pointed to the pour soul at the front.

“You’re arms need to be the same angle, every time. Everybody’s is different, it only looks sharp if it’s the same!” Hobi demonstrated angrily.

A bubble of guilt and fear grew in Minho’s chest. Hoseok was one of the most carefree and joyful people Minho had ever met, but when the team disappointed him, he was downright terrifying.

Minho’s gaze darted up to the clock. 1.30. He should be there by now. His guilt grew.

“Here!” Hobi paused the video again, “Shoulder on five, arm on six, pause, then boom, jump on eight. DON’T spread out your movements, they should be sharp otherwise the hit doesn’t look good!”

  
Jisung was probably there. Deaun would definitely be there.

Minho didn’t know why he was so uneasy with the idea of them being alone. Jisung hadn’t told him everything, Minho knew it. Maybe he had been lying when he said he wasn’t in love with Deaun.

  
It would make sense.

They were childhood friends, and Jisung didn’t like talking about his past. Seungmin, who had known him the longest, mentioned once that it seemed like you knew Jisung until you realise that there was a whole other side of him that he was hiding. Surely it was possible he had loved her, and if that were the case it wouldn’t be far stretched to assume, he loved her still.

Jisung had denied it, but Minho didn’t know Jisung well enough to tell when he was lying.

Jisung had been uncomfortable the entire time they were at Deaun’s and had finally broken when Tommy had arrived. Tommy, another childhood friend, who was dating the girl he loved. Years of heartbreak and jealously are the perfect explanation for his reaction.

Minho had promised not to ask questions, maybe he hadn’t needed to.

“Minho” Hobi snapped and Minho was shaken out his ponderings, “Your wrists can’t be floppy here. When the moves are supposed to be sharp, they need to be.”

Minho nodded, his cheeks ablaze with the negative attention.

Hobi slammed the laptop shut.

“Run it again.”

Changbin’s sister, who had been leaning against the doorframe watching over the crew sighed and shook her head, before trudging to her position.

Hobi glared at her and marched to his beginning spot. There was a tension growing between them that the whole room could feel.

“Think about your mistakes, fix them, then repeat until it feels natural!” Changbin’s sister called over the intro of the song.

Something was off. Undeniably so. More pressingly, Minho was late, and couldn’t leave until they were perfect.

They ran through it three more times consecutively, Hobi barely giving them time to catch their breath before the music started again.

Hobi still wasn’t satisfied and reached out his hand for the phone connected to the speaker.

“AGAIN.”

Changbin’s sister shook her head and pressed off on the speaker closest to her.

“No, its time to go home.”

Hobi glared at her.

“Get rest, come back tomorrow.”

The students collected their stuff hesitantly, not entirely sure what this situation meant and whether it was expectable for them to go. Minho left the studio and grabbed his bag from the lockers, before heading back pass the studios and into the bathrooms.

He stripped off his dance clothes and fell into the shower, not waiting for the water to warm. He had the bus timetable memorised and had ten minutes until the next one would arrive. Realistically fifteen, because they were always late, but he didn’t want to risk missing it. He rinsed the sweat from his hair and skin and dressed in record time.

Most students had left when he exited the bathroom, still drying his hair with his towel, but Hobi and Changbin’s sister were still in the studio.

Minho didn’t mean to listen, but their voices carried well through the open door.

“You’re pushing them too far. It’s going to backfire.” Changbin’s sister criticised in a harsh whisper.

Hobi’s jaw clenched,

“They need to be better. We need to win.”

“They’re gonna end up getting hurt,” She sighed loudly and ran her hands through her hair, “If we keep pushing them this hard, they’re going to keep excepting it, you know that. They’re going to end up injured.”

“We need to win,” Hobi repeated, his voice caught in his throat.

“I know.”

The studio fell silent and Minho stepped away from the door. An unsettling feeling came across his body, sinking from his head down to his toes.

The was a loud pop as Hobi pulled out the chord connecting it to the speakers.

Minho shook his head, pulling himself out of the daze. He was running late, he needed to be quicker than he was.

“We can’t afford to lose.” Hobi’s voice carried down the hallway as Minho reached the lockers. He sounded broken.

Minho pushed the front door open and hurriedly stepped out. He had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to have heard what he had.

“So sorry I’m late.” Minho flopped into the seat beside Jisung and opposite Deaun, pushing his damp hair out his eyes. His dance bag thumped loudly when he dropped it to the floor.

Deaun smiled, her eyes crinkling kindly,

“Don’t worry about it, we’re just glad you could come.”

Minho smiled at Lia, who smiled back shyly. Jisung’s jaw clenched.

“Hi, I’m Minho,” Minho held his hand out and Lia shook it her smile slowly becoming more genuine.

“Lia.”

Jisung relaxed back into his seat.

Minho punched his shoulder in the way friends did. He was a better actor than Jisung had expected. He was going out of his way to make them seem friendly; Jisung should thank him.

“You dressed up,” Minho commented rubbing the fabric of Jisung’s jacket between his fingers. Jisung’s cheeks reddened and he covered his face with his hand.

“Awww,” Minho cooed, “You look nice!”

Jisung had, in fact, spend quite a lot of time rummaging through the mountain of clothes on his floor and the limited number in his wardrobe looking for something other than his countless hoodies.

Minho hadn’t tried to look nice. He didn’t need to.

His hair was still damp from sweat and it formed dark strands framing his face. He smelled like deodorant and his skin glowed in a way Jisung’s never seemed to. He was wearing track pants and a black hoodie but for Minho, that was enough.

“Did you come straight from dance?” Deaun asked, taking a sip of her water. Minho nodded, picking up the menu from the table and flicking it open.

“Yeah, it’s been a hectic morning.” He laughed casually and Jisung’s heart flipped. Minho could be as charming as anything when he wanted to.

Jisung picked up his own menu, staring at the pages, not really taking anything in. He already knew what he wanted to get anyway.

He glanced sideways at Minho. His smile faltered for a second, his face morphing into a blank slate. Jisung followed his gaze to the row of prices down the side; Minho wasn’t even reading the descriptions, basing his decision purely on expense.

Shit…

Jisung had forgotten the rumours of Minho’s financial situation. The rumours Minho himself had basically confirmed in the recording studio that morning when the fought.

Lia had picked up a menu too and was scanning through the pages, lazily, as if she too already knew what she wanted and was just examining the options, so she was doing something. Jisung could relate.

Deaun on the other hand, was reading each option carefully, occasionally asking them for their input; Jisung thought maybe more as a way to initiate a conversation than anything else.

“I wonder what’s on the specials?” Deaun wondered out loud. Jisung hadn’t know places like this even had specials.

“Excuse me for a moment.” She stood up and exited the booth with more elegance than Jisung thought he had ever possessed.

Lia giggled and shook her head. Lia seemed to giggle a lot.

“What are you getting?” Jisung poked Minho in the ribs, hoping that Minho picked up that his actions were just to help solidify the lie of their friendship.

Minho looked up from the menu, his face falling into an easy smile.

“Probably just coffee. I’m not very hungry.”

Jisung called bullshit. Minho had been at dance since 6.30 that morning; there was no way he wasn’t hungry. Jisung didn’t say anything though, just hummed and nodded in response. He felt guilt, at inviting Minho to a place he couldn’t afford, rising up in his chest.

“What about you?” Minho asked ruffling Jisung’s hair with his left hand.

“Cheesecake,” Jisung responded, pouting as he reached up to fix his hair back into place.

Lia gasped, in a happy, delicate sort of way.

“Me too!”

“Really!” Jisung gasped too. Minho chuckled quietly, turning his head away for a moment.

Maybe Lia wasn’t too bad. In Jisung’s opinion, you couldn’t really be the worst if you like cheesecake.

“I love cheesecake,” Jisung said, with probably a little too much excitement in his voice.

Lia grinned back,

“Me too. It’s really good here too!”

Suddenly Lia didn’t look so proper. She lost her unapproachable politeness and just became a kid. A kid like Jisung.

“They don’t have the flavours listed.” Jisung frowned tapping the menu, which simply read ‘cheesecake’.

Lia giggled again and this time Jisung realised that her nose wrinkled when she did so.

“They’re over in the cake cabinet, you have to go and look.” She pointed over to the register where there was an extensive display of various sweets. Jisung’s eyes flickered from the colourful cakes to Deaun, who was standing beside the specials board, talking with a boy with broad shoulders and muscles that showed clearly through the thin cotton of his shirt.

“Who’s that?” Jisung asked quietly.

“Not sure,” Minho replied but the way he said it sounded a lot more like he had an idea.

The way Minho’s hand tightened around his menu made Jisung’s heart sink.

Deaun’s polite laughter carried over to the booth. She was leading the boy over to the table; the crisp folds in his shorts and the gleaming silver band of the watch on his wrist gave away the fact that he was from money.

“Everybody!” Deaun called over, but their attention had already been drawn, “This is Tommy’s friend Chris.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Lia smiled and introduced herself, standing to offer her hand. Jisung and Minho both remained sitting. He smiled back but his eyes remained cold as he flashed a blinding set of teeth. Jisung didn’t like him already.

“Hi.” Jisung muttered, only barely lifting his head. There was no way a friend of Tommy’s wouldn’t have already at least of heard about him.

“Lee Minho?” Chris asked, but it didn’t really sound like a question.

Minho nodded; his demeanour had completely changed. Jisung didn’t understand how he could so easily transition from the boy beside him to the boy who’s smile still scared him.

“Imagine seeing you here.” Chris didn’t sound surprised at all.

“Do you know each other?” Deaun asked, her voice sounded like bells, a stark contrast to the tension building.

“Something like that,” Minho responded coldly, not breaking eye contact with Chris. Jisung held his breath, but the moment was dissolved when the barrister, called Chris’s name across the room.

“Sorry Deaun, I’ve got to be going soon.” Chris looked away from Minho and smiled casually at Deaun.

She nodded happily,

“Of course, we’ll have to catch up another time.”

The entire situation seemed to have gone over her head. She was always so good at seeing the best in people, maybe she had become blinded to the darkness.

Chris collected his coffee and walked out of the shop, waving and briefly catching Minho’s eye again. It felt like a threat.

“Come on.” Lia stood up, tapping Jisung’s hand as she did so, “Let’s choose cake.”

Jisung stood up too. Deaun let them exit the booth before sitting down. Jisung could feel Minho’s watch follow them to the register.

“That was strange,” Lia whispered; her arm brushed him as they walked.

Jisung nodded,

“Yeah,” The hairs on his arm stood up, “There was something not right about that.”

Lia’s eyes narrowed,

“I’m going to keep my eye on him.” She pointed at her eyes, before breaking into a grin when Jisung giggled.

Maybe Lia was funny.

“What flavour do you suggest?” Jisung asked looking down at the unrealistically large range of cheesecakes available.

“I like coffee, but they’re all good, so you really can’t go wrong.” Lia tapped the glass case.

“I don’t think I can choose!” Jisung groaned dramatically, leaning down to get a better look.

“How about we get two and split them?” Lia suggested joining Jisung in bending down, “That way you can try two types.”

Jisung glanced at her out the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Jisung agreed and briefly he saw Lia smile.

“That’s a new one.” Lia pointed to a slice of cake nearer to Jisung.

“Raspberry and white chocolate,” Jisung readout the label, “Yum, sounds good.”

“Okay,” Lia frowned at the case, “One of them, and…”

“Brownie?” Jisung suggested.

“How’s that different from chocolate?”

“Dunno, looks good though.”

Lia hummed in agreement,

“Yeah it does.” She stood up and Jisung followed her lead.

The girl behind the register flashed a pearly smile when they approached, which they returned, Lia slightly more naturally than Jisung. Lia ordered her slice of cake and a vanilla drink Jisung had never heard of before. She paid without looking at the price.

“C- can I have a slice of the brownie cheesecake, and, uh,” Jisung stuttered, “uh, a caramel milkshake please.”

The girl smiled reassuringly,

“Sure thing. Is that all?”

Jisung looked back at the table where Minho was talking quietly to Deaun, his dance bag sticking out from under the table.

“Um, can I get a muffin too?”

“Of course, what flavour.”

“Chocolate?” Everybody liked chocolate, didn’t they?

“They’ll come out with your drink.” The girl said cheerfully and plugged Jisung’s order into the machine. Jisung paid and stumbled away from the register.

“A muffin?” Lia asked, playfully nudging him, “I thought you were a cheesecake boy, I’m betrayed.”

“Don’t be,” Jisung placed his hand over his heart, “Cheesecake forever. The muffin’s actually for Minho.” He admitted the last part, quietly as the neared the table.

“Yeah, I thought it was off when he said he wasn’t hungry.” Lia nodded and the protective part of Jisung jumped out again.

“It’s not that,” He huffed slightly, “Minho doesn’t like eating after exercising,” He lied through his teeth, “adrenaline ruins his appetite, but I don’t trust him not to be hungry later.” He shrugged, “I owe him anyway.”

Every word was a lie, at least it was to Jisung’s knowledge, but Jisung was comfortable with them for some indescribable reason.

“Did you order?” Deaun asked as they sat back down again.

“Yep!” Lia called happily.

“We should too.”

Minho nodded and the pair stood up.

Jisung’s eyes dropped to Minho’s hand which was clutched tightly around his wallet as if he was afraid of losing it.

_Shit, I’m sorry Minho._

“How do you know each other?” Lia asked, spinning a paper straw between her fingers.

“Who, Minho?”

“Sure.” Lia shrugged. Maybe she had meant Deaun, maybe it didn’t matter.

“We met at school. We had mutual friends and we started hanging out together as a group. Then…” He trailed off. He hadn’t lied. _Were they friends?_

He shrugged,

“Then, yeah, friends.”

Lia tapped her straw against the table thoughtfully.

“He cares about you a lot,” She smiled at the look on Jisung’s face, “Don’t look at me like that! It’s obvious.”

Jisung laughed nervously.

“He keeps watching you when you’re not looking, making sure you’re okay.”

Jisung wrinkled his nose and Lia slapped his arm from across the table.

“It’s true! At Deaun’s party too. You guys were so comfortable with each other; it was really sweet.”

“Minho’s not sweet.” Jisung disagreed and Lia laughed.

“He’s sweet with you.” She pointed her straw at him.

Jisung didn’t think she could be more wrong.

Lee Minho was not sweet.

He was most definitely not sweet with Jisung.

Deaun and Minho joined them back at the table and the group fell into easy chatter.

Their food arrived and Jisung pushed the muffin in front of Minho.

“In return for the frozen yoghurt,” Jisung said catching Minho’s eyes and hoping he understood the unsaid message. Minho had never bought Jisung yoghurt. 

“You didn’t have to,” Minho said, but he excepted the muffin, the tips of his ears pink and his eyes thankful.

Jisung just hummed and sipped his milkshake.

Lunch (which had kind of become a late brunch or an early afternoon tea, as none of them were eating proper food, only cake) turned out to be a lot more relaxed than Jisung had anticipated.

He fell back into the easy relationship he had held with Deaun years ago, guilt rising occasionally when moments from their past was brought up in conversations. His heart still dropped when Tommy’s name was mentioned, but for the most part, it was okay. Maybe it had even been fun.

Minho continued to bewilder Jisung, with his casual smile and generally friendly persona.

And Lia.

_Lia._

Some part of him wanted to dislike her, maybe in defiance of Deaun’s meddling, but it was incredibly difficult not to.

The more time he spent beside her, the more he grew attached to the idea of their friendship, the easier enjoying her company became. By the time they exited the café Jisung was pretty sure they would be considered friends.

Minho didn’t know how to feel, watching Jisung fall so easily into step with Lia as they left the café.

A mix of emotions raged inside him, leaving him feeling numb to some extent. Lia was pretty, it was impossible to deny, and she and Jisung matched well; it was hard to stop the ugly head of jealously snapping.

“They look cute together, don’t they?” Deaun asked bumping her hip into Minho’s. She was watching Jisung and Lia fighting teasingly over strawberry mints Lia had in her purse.

“Yeah.” Minho agreed, sadness creeping into his voice. They did look cute together. His stomach flipped.

It was only a crush.

He couldn’t afford to fall in love.

Deaun seemed to miss his lack of excitement and instead smiled happily at the pair in front of her.

“I’ve known Jisung forever. He was like my little brother and best friend all in one,” She sighed lightly, nostalgia slipping in, “He was always there, then I started dating Tommy and he disappeared.”

Minho’s hands flexed inside the pockets of his hoodie. He didn’t feel like he should be hearing this.

There was a cry in front of them as Jisung stole the tin of mints from Lia and shoved a couple into his mouth before she could snatch them back.

“I had an incredible amount of guilt for a long time.” Deaun continued. She wasn’t looking at Minho, instead walking straight forwards. Her emotions didn’t show on her face, but Minho had a feeling this was a difficult topic for her.

His dance bag slipped down his shoulder and Minho pulled it back up.

“I loved Tommy, more than anything. We were young and people didn’t take our love seriously, but we were in love, we still are.”

Minho didn’t miss the smile that grew across Deaun’s face while talking about him.

“But I also loved Jisung; in a different way, but does that make the love any less real?”

Minho didn’t say anything.

“I feel like I drove him away, maybe unintentionally, but it was still me. I couldn’t love him like I suspect he wanted, but I felt guilty that it ruined the friendship we had.” Deaun laughed sadly and Minho rested his hand on her shoulder briefly.

“You’re trying to connect now. That makes up for any mistakes in the past.” Minho tried to comfort her, but it came out sounding more like a question.

“I don’t know…” Deaun stopped walking and Minho stopped too, “He seems broken. He’s no longer the boy I knew, I’m worried that I hurt him beyond repair.”

There was a moment of silence between them as the distance from Jisung and Lia grew.

“I’m glad him and Lia are getting along well.” Deaun said finally, “He deserves to be happy.”

“He does.” Minho agreed quietly.

They reached the corner of the street; Jisung and Lia had stopped and were waiting for them.

“Do you want a lift home?” Deaun asked pulling her keys out her bag and jingling them slightly. Minho winced.

“No thanks, I’m working.” Minho shook his head.

“Jisung?”

“I’ll catch the bus, but thanks for the offer.”

“Alright,” Deaun grinned and pulled then into a hug each, “We will see you soon!”

“Bye guys!” Lia called, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Jisung waved enthusiastically and Minho bit his lip to stop a fond smile spreading across his face.

Deaun linked her arm with Lia’s and together they walked over the road and out of Minho’s line of sight.

Without discussing it, Minho and Jisung walked to the bus stop, down the street and in the opposite direction than the girls had left in.

“Thanks for the muffin,” Minho kicked at a rock on the side of the road, “It was good.”

“You’re welcome,” Jisung blushed slightly and ducked his head down, “Thanks for coming.”

Minho didn’t reply, just kicked the rock further down the path.

It hadn’t really felt like an option to him, something he could choose not to do. When Jisung had asked Minho had agreed without thinking. He didn’t regret it, not one bit.

“Lia seemed friendly,” Minho stated, scuffing his shoe against the ground. The sole was coming off around the edges; they would have to be replaced soon. Minho didn’t know if he could afford to.

“Yeah she did,” Jisung agreed absently, “She wasn’t as… stuck up, as I was expecting.”

“You get her number?” Minho asked, fearing the answer in the part of his heart he was ignoring.

“No.” Jisung frowned, “I should’ve, shouldn’t I?”

“Probably.” Minho shrugged, pretending his heart didn’t sting with the words.

They arrived at the bus stop.

Someone was already there, leaning against the side of the shelter. He looked up as they drew nearer, and Minho’s heart dropped.

Chris.

He nodded at them and Minho nodded back.

“It’s just a coincidence, right?” Jisung asked quietly so only Minho could hear. His eyes darted fearfully to the boy on the other side of the bus stop.

Minho doubted it. If he was honest with himself, he had suspected something like this was the case as soon as Deaun introduced them and Chris already knew his name.

“Yeah, just a coincidence, nothing else.” He didn’t want to scare Jisung for no reason.

Lying was easier anyway.

The bus arrived and they all got on.

Jisung sat at the window, and patted the empty seat beside him, signifying for Minho to take it.

Chris sat two seats behind them, and Minho’s heart rate increased.

It’s just a coincidence.

Minho could feel Jisung’s body heat where their thighs were pressed together. They didn’t really talk but the silence was comfortable rather than awkward. Jisung stared out the window at the sky, and Minho stared at Jisung. He did look good, dressed up like this. 

Occasionally Chris’s reflection in the window would catch Minho’s attention. He had headphones in now and was seemingly glued to his phone, though Minho could feel his eyes flickering up to the pair more than a couple of times.

It felt like they were being watched.

Minho’s palms started to sweat.

Jisung’s stop was first. He leant over Minho to press the button and Minho could smell the vanilla scent of his shampoo.

The bus stopped and Minho got up to let Jisung out, kicking his bag under the seat and out of Jisung’s way.

“Thanks for coming,” Jisung said again and Minho smiled.

They didn’t say goodbye.

The rest of the journey was significantly lonelier. Without Jisung the quite just felt empty rather than comfortable. Without Jisung Chris’s presence was even more unnerving.

Anyway, it didn’t matter if it was a coincidence now. Jisung was out of harm's way and that was all that mattered.

Minho pressed the button and got off the bus at his stop. Chris followed close behind and Minho’s grip on his bag tightened.

The walk from the bus to the gas station wasn’t far and Minho could easily run, but he didn’t. That was the first thing Kiwoo had taught him about fighting, never show when you were afraid.

He still had twenty minutes before his shift, but Minho went straight in, telling the girl there before him that she could head home if she wanted. Chris hesitated at the door, and any doubt Minho had that he had been following him vanished.

_Fuck._

Chris waited outside the shop for half an hour as Minho worked, looking inside occasionally but mostly with his back pressed against the glass.

Eventually, the waiting must have gotten the best of him.

Chris pushed to door open and shot Minho and his manager an award-winning, but clearly fake, grin. All the muscles in Minho’s body tensed.

“I was wondering what time you guys closed?” He asked somehow managing to smile as he talked.

Minho pointed to the opening times on the door, his jaw set.

“Ah, silly me.” Chris laughed, but his eyes didn’t change. He had seen the times, Minho knew it. His words were a threat. _When you close, I’ll be waiting._

Minho would be waiting too.

It hadn’t been a coincidence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've realised that I've fucked up with the timeline in relation to the school year. Currently, in the story it's right before summer and therefore the summer holidays. I was basing it with American/European seasons meaning that it is roughly May in the story. With those countries in mind, the school year should finish soon, however, this doesn't fit with the plot as I had the Australian school year in mind when creating the plot, which finishes in early December. Please ignore this inconsistency as it is really too late for me to fix it. Just pretend that the school year continues after the summer holidays through to Christmas, which coincidentally is the summer holidays in Australia.
> 
> On an unrelated and slightly sadder note, I feel like I'm losing people's interest. This may be self-centred of me but I'm scared that people aren't enjoying it anymore. Obviously, I can't tell for sure, but there was a time when I was gaining more comments in each chapter and then it just stopped. I know this isn't you as a readers fault, but it's scary, the idea of losing the audience I have worked so hard to build. I don't mean to guilt you into staying if you've lost interest that's not your fault at all. Neither is it mine, I have a story I want to tell, and I'm not going to adjust its plot or my vision for it.  
> I don't really know where I'm going with this.  
> I just really love this story so far and I'm proud of it. I thought people were enjoying it and I hope they still are. I think this roots from not being comfortable sharing this with anyone I know in real life and therefore not really knowing anyone's true opinion of it. Maybe it's deeper than that and I need constant approval to feel like I'm doing well. I have issues with my expectations of myself when it comes to my performance, and I feel like that's carrying over to here.  
> I didn't mean to get so deep on you guys here, but I thought it was important for me to explain my situation as it has been affecting my writing.  
> If I think the story is bad, I can't bring myself to write anymore, that's just how it is. Then I suddenly write the entire chapter in one afternoon and publish it before I can rethink it and convince myself that no-ones going to like it. That's why my editing is so dodgy.  
> I'm sorry for dropping that all on you.  
> PLEASE don't feel pressured to comment because of what I've said. I think I just needed to rant and explain myself.


	26. Chapter 26  (“What did you do?” “Fought back.”)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to address this now because I don't want to talk about it later. When I uploaded last chapter I wasn't in a good headspace. I usually try to schedule around them because I've gotten pretty good at guessing when I'm going to fall. This one lasted for a couple of days and it was triggered by stress and something I don't really want to say (don't worry it's not that bad, just personal), however, it led to a lack of sleep and everything just built up and up. When I uploaded I had gone three days with a collective five hours of sleep between them, so I think its safe to say that I wasn't in the correct headspace to be writing anything, let alone upload any of it without really thinking.
> 
> As soon as I uploaded I went to sleep and slept for a decent amount of time, and the response I woke up to was amazing. You guys were so supportive and I honestly felt so loved. Now, whenever I feel doubt about my writing I have something to look back on and a reason to have confidence in myself. 
> 
> So thank you and thank you a million times over. I truly love every single one of you.

Jisung didn’t hear from Minho until Monday.

The early summer heat was no longer as exciting as it had been a couple of weeks ago and the warm weather was tiring and sticky. Jisung wrinkled his nose at his reflection in the mirror, he looked skinny and weak without being able to drown himself in his hoodies.

He looked over at the chair beside his bed. The pink hoodie, Tommy’s pink hoodie, that he had left at Deaun’s party, sat still folded and smelling like Deaun’s laundry powder. She had slipped it into his hands when the others weren’t paying attention and Jisung was glad.

He couldn’t remember if Deaun could remember the history behind it. It seemed likely. Tommy used to wear it a lot, almost as much as Jisung did now and it would make sense that she would have recognised it.

Tommy’s hoodie. The one he had left with Jisung the last time they had hung out together when Jisung painted the snake and Tommy had told him he loved Deaun. The one he couldn’t bring himself to give up.

He could hear his mum sleeping in the other room and shut the door quietly as not to wake her. He left the hoodie on the chair.

The walk to school left a thin layer of sweat over Jisung’s skin, but the sky was clear and Jisung smiled at the blue regardless. The city often suffocated the beauty of the sky, with its grey clouds of pollution in the day and the thousands of lights in the night. But today the sky was open and endless. Jisung loved days like this.

His friends were gathered under the tree in the courtyard, having travelled a couple of metres from their usual table in an attempt to hide under the shade of the trees. Jisung laughed at them all piled up on top of each other, lazing on the grass and sent a picture of them to Lia.

Almost as soon as he had gotten home from lunch, he had received a text from an unknown number that had turned out to be Lia, having gotten his number from Deaun. They had been talking non-stop since then. Lia had already sent him pictures of four different dogs that she had seen, none of them hers, and a picture of her cat, who, Jisung didn’t tell her this, was actually very ugly.

The notification band at the top of the phone dropped for a moment.

_8.32: Don’t panic, it's not as bad as it looks._

Minho.

“Hey,” he called out to his friends. Only half of them looked up, the others just waved a hand to show they had heard him, “Have any of you seen Minho this morning?”

“No,” Chan frowned, “he hasn’t arrived yet. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded, “at least I think so.” He sat down on the grass next to Changbin.

“What do you mean you ‘think so’?”

Jisung shrugged, everybody’s attention was on him now and he squirmed uncomfortably.

“He sent me a message telling me not to panic.”

“Shit,” Changbin muttered loudly enough most of the group to hear.

“He messaged you?” Hyunjin muttered under his breath, Jisung didn’t think he was supposed to have heard.

Changbin pulled out his phone too.

“Yeah, he’s sent it to me too.” He showed the screen to Chan, who breathed in sharply, his chest tightening.

The summer air grew tense and there was an unmistakable worry in the older members. Jisung tucked his knees under his chin and hugged his legs. Felix rubbed his back.

“What’s going on?” Jeongin asked, his voice wavering slightly.

“Minho’s gotten himself fucked up.” Changbin’s voice was rough and unforgiving. Jeongin shrunk back but Jisung had known Changbin for long enough now to recognise that he was frightened, very frightened.

“Is it that bad?” Felix asked quietly, looking up at Chan with his kitten eyes.

Chan bit his lip,

“He’s asked us not to worry. Minho doesn’t do that unless he’s worried too.”

“It takes a lot to scare him, doesn’t it?” Seungmin asked and Chan nodded grimly.

Jisung didn’t look at them.

He disagreed. Minho was scared, all the time, it just he wasn’t afraid of the things everybody expected him to be. Jisung couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but it certainly wasn’t the fighting, it was something else, something that no one could see but him.

He messaged Lia.

_8.50: Have you heard anything from Minho?_

She replied immediately,

_8.50: No, I haven’t, is everything okay?_

_8.51: I don’t know, I think he got hurt_

He sighed and rubbed his face on his knees. The sticks that fell from the tree dug into his skin.

“Is that him?” Seungmin called out and Jisung looked up to the figure walking over from the main street. The bag over his shoulder bounced against his hip as he walked.

It was Minho.

“Hi everybody.” He grinned and the split in his lip bleed a little. Minho wiped the red away with his sleeve, completely unbothered. He had a black eye and a cut across his left cheek. Someone had stuck a smiley face Band-Aid over it; it would have been cute if his face weren’t so fucked up.

Chan stood up sharply.

“What happened?” He didn’t bother asking if Minho was okay, the answer was obvious.

Minho’s eyes drifted down to Jisung before snapping back up to Chan.

“An angry customer,” Minho said calmly, “Waited for me outside the shop when I was finished closing, then…” He gestured to himself and grinned again. A chill went down Jisung’s spine. This smile was so much colder than his normal one. It was sharper, deadly, it didn’t reach his eyes and Jisung was terrified. Despite the warm weather, Jisung shivered.

  
“What did you do?” Chan asked. He stood up too, hands clenched by his sides.

“Fought back.” Minho laughed and his tongue flicked across his lips.

“You didn’t go to the police, report him to your manager at least?” Chan asked, exasperated.

Minho laughed again and shook his head,

“They’ll always see me as the villain. Bringing attention to these sorts of things always makes them worse.” His smile faded and for a moment Jisung saw just how scared Minho was. “Stop worrying Chan. I really am fine.” He pointed at the Band-Aid on his cheek, “Got patched up at dance.”

Chan sighed as the bell rang.

“Just be careful.” Chan shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Jisung thought he looked tired.

“I’m trying,” Minho whispered just loud enough for Jisung to hear. He didn’t think anyone else had.

Minho wasn’t just scared; he was fucking terrified.

Minho knew he wasn’t in a good state when he arrived at school on Monday. He looked like shit, but there was so much more invisible pain that had just become second nature to hide.

Like Kiwoo had taught him, never show when you’re afraid, never show when you’re hurt.

He walked through the pain instead of showing a limp. He allowed Chan to hug him, even though his ribs screamed with the pressure. Despite the hot weather, he wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover the dark bruises that covered his arms.

But more importantly, he knew he wasn’t in a good place mentally. He had slipped into the mindset of thinking of himself as a monster, and once he was in it, it was almost impossible to pull himself out again.

Maybe, it just was easier to blame himself sometimes. Maybe, it just was easier to hate himself sometimes.

Changbin walked him to his next lesson. Eyes followed them down the hallway and Minho knew that the rumors would start soon enough.

“You messaged Jisung?” Changbin asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“Yeah,” Minho glared at a girl who had been staring out the corner of his eye.

“Does that mean you’re getting closer?”

Minho shrugged,

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

Changbin shook his head but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to; Minho knew what he was thinking.

“Chan’s going to be mad once he stops freaking out.” Changbin finally said as they reached Minho’s class.

“I know,” Minho said rolling his eyes.

“Don’t you care?”

“Not really,” Minho’s jaw tightened as someone didn’t even try to disguise their stare.

“Maybe you should. Also, talk to Jisung, he looked scared for you.” Changbin clapped his shoulder and Minho’s vision darkened with the wave of red-hot pain that ran through his body.

Changbin said goodbye and Minho was left standing in the doorway to the class by himself. His usual desk was empty like expected but so was the seat beside it. The girl that sat there was at the front of the room and didn’t meet his eyes when he walked in. She was scared of him, and he couldn’t blame her. He was a monster.

There it was again, slipping into that mindset. Minho knew he was, but the words sounded so real, he couldn’t convince himself otherwise.

He sat down at the desk and pulled out his phone.

_9.10: Are you free tonight? Want to go painting?_

He put the device away again before he could see if he had received any messages.

Had Changbin been telling the truth when he said Jisung had looked scared for him, or maybe he had been mistaken and Jisung just looked scared of him. He hoped not.

He hoped that Jisung would say yes to them going painting, just so Minho could have an excuse to admire him as he did so. He hoped that Jisung would get colour on his face again, so that Minho could smile at him fondly before wiping it off, their faces too close to be considered friendly.

_9.12: Yeah, sure. Are you okay?_

Minho smiled at the notification lighting up the screen of his phone. For a moment, his pain vanished, and he was at ease. Jisung had said yes, and for that brief instant that was all that mattered.

It didn’t matter that the price of his rent had gone up. It didn’t matter that he could hardly move yesterday when he was at the dance studios. It didn’t matter that by this afternoon Minho would have been reduced to a monster by everybody in the school, including himself.

All that mattered was that Minho could smile at Jisung and have Jisung smile back.

There was a second notification alongside it. A message from Deaun.

_9.15: Lia said you got hurt, are you okay?_

Minho sighed and turned off the phone. He wondered if Deaun knew more than she was letting on, and if she knew the truth, would she pin it on him.

Jisung sat beside Hyunjin on the beanbags in the library, taking notes on the book he was reading and sneaking little bits of food when the librarian wasn’t looking. His phone pinged and he tucked it inside the book so he could answer without any of the teachers seeing.

_9.10: Are you free tonight? Want to go painting?_

He thought for a second. His dad was supposed to be coming home tonight.

_9.12: Yeah, sure. Are you okay?_

He would rather be out of the house for his father's return. It was too awkward to answer his questions of how Jisung life had been since he’d gone, and it was too hard to pretend to be interested in his business stories.

It would be good to go out painting again. They had had fun last time, hadn’t they?

He sent Luis a message.

_9.13: Do you still want me to redo that wall?_

“Who are you talking to?” Hyunjin asked and Jisung stuffed his phone into his pocket.

“Luis.” He didn’t mention Minho.

“Who’s Luis?”

“Someone I know. He owns the skate shop on Elizabeth.”

“You’ve never mentioned him before.” Hyunjin turned the page of his book, though Jisung was pretty sure he wasn’t actually reading it.

Jisung hummed,

“I haven’t really seen him in a couple of years, we met up the other day though.”

“You seem to know a lot of people you haven’t seen in a couple of years,” Hyunjin commented and turned the page of his book again even though Jisung hadn’t seen him look at it since he had last done it.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, tilting his head at his friend.

“Yep, why do you ask?” Hyunjin said sharply, he was holding the book tightly and his knuckles were white.

“You’re just acting kinda… I don’t know.” Jisung hugged his knees against his chest.

Hyunjin huffed and looked at the book,

“I’m fine, just stressed.”

“Stressed?” Jisung shuffled over so he was right beside Hyunjin, their sides pressing together, “About what?”

“Lots,” Hyunjin muttered rubbing his forehead, “Kkami is sick, schools a nightmare, Minho’s injured and our performance is next week, and I… never mind.”  
“Oh…”

Maybe Jisung was selfish. It certainly felt that way. Everybody fights their own battles and Jisung was too caught up in his own to notice when his friends were struggling.

“What can I do to help?” He asked finally, tilting Hyunjin’s face gently so he was looking into Jisung’s eyes. Hyunjin blinked up at him as Jisung brushed the dark strands of his hair behind his ear.

“Not much,” Hyunjin said softly, “be there for me if I cry.”

“Of course.”

“Try and keep Minho out of more trouble.”

Jisung frowned slightly,

“Me? How could I keep Minho out of more trouble?”

“I’m not blind, he clearly doesn’t hate you anymore,” Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, “He trusted you enough to message you.”

Jisung’s frown deepened,

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jisung, he didn’t even message Chan, he messaged you. For some reason, he thought it was more important to let you know than anyone else.”

“Oh…”

Hyunjin looked back down at his book as Jisung’s phone screen lit up again with the reply from Luis.

_9.17: Yeah, I would love you too._

Jisung smiled down at it before responding quickly.

_9.18: Sweet, can I come around tonight?_

_9.18: No problem, I need to go out for a bit later but if you’re happy to be there by yourself that’s all good._

Jisung messaged back that it was fine and slumped back in his beanbag. Hyunjin looked at him out the corner of his eye.

Jisung rolled tilted his body so Hyunjin couldn’t see his screen without it seeming obvious what he was doing.

He messaged Minho.

_9.20: meet me out the front of school, I have a place to go, we won’t have to worry about the police, but I need to go home and get paints first._

Minho didn’t respond, but that was most likely because he was in class. Jisung hadn’t expected him to.

“Are you boys working?” The study line supervisor came around the corner raising her eyebrows at the beanbags where Jisung had just stuffed his phone away.

Hyunjin nodded without looking up from his book and Jisung picked up his pen as if he were about to make a note. His snacks lay open on the floor and Jisung just pretended they weren’t there in hope that if he didn’t bring her attention to it, she wouldn’t notice.

“Exams are coming up,” the teacher tutted and Jisung physically restrained himself from rolling his eyes, “You should be working hard.”

Neither of them said anything until she had left them to go bother another student.

Hyunjin groaned loudly and Jisung giggled.

“As if we need reminding!” He grumbled. The stress of exams had been laying heavy on Hyunjin’s shoulders.

“You’ll do fine, I’ll help you revise,” Jisung promised, patting Hyunjin’s head lightly. Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered shut briefly.

“Thanks,” he smiled softly and Jisung ruffled his hair.

“We should get back to studying.” Jisung sat back and Hyunjin opened his eyes, still smiling but his cheeks a little pink.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin picked up his book and covered his face, “we should.”

Jisung laughed and picked up his own.

He zoned out for the rest of the study, making notes on the topic, most of it going over his head but some of it sticking. Hyunjin worked silently beside him, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. Exams had been stressing him out, but for a moment the study was relaxing, it felt like he was working towards a goal; it was satisfying.

The teacher came around again and seemed surprised to see them actually working rather than messing around as she had expected. Jisung made eye contact with Hyunjin, who bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

Jisung snickered quietly and Hyunjin broke, giggling into his hands and pushing Jisung lightly.

He wished Hyunjin had been in his life earlier. They fell so easily into each other, it was a friendship where the effort came naturally, and each moment shared felt like a memory in the making.

Jisung needed to spend more time with his friends, it felt like he had hung out with Minho recently, more than he had Hyunjin in the last month.

“Movie night soon?” Jisung whispered over at Hyunjin as the teacher walked down the other side of the bookshelf.

Hyunjin uncovered his face, no longer laughing but the ghost of the joy across his face.

“Sure.”

  
“Yet me know when,” Jisung tapped the screen of his phone again, “and I’ll see if it works with the others.”

Hyunjin froze for a second and his smile faltered, but it was back quick enough for Jisung to be unsure of what he’d seen.

“Who’s the others?” Hyunjin asked. It sounded like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Main four?” Jisung hesitated as he spoke. He was walking the edge that had become so apparent with Hyunjin lately, do anything wrong and Hyunjin would freeze up. The problem was Jisung didn’t know where this line was and what he was doing to cross it.

Hyunjin relaxed slightly,

“Yeah, main four… that would be nice.”

Jisung smiled, relived,

“Good, it’s been too long.”

The screen of Jisung phone lit up again, immediately drawing both their attention. Jisung tried to cover the notification without it seeming like he was doing just that, but it was too late, Hyunjin had already seen.

_10.10: Sounds good, see you then._

“Minho?” Hyunjin asked tilting his head to get a better look. Jisung turned the phone off without replying.

“Yep.” He could feel a blush growing across his face but elected to ignore it.

Hyunjin tucked his knees to his chest.

“Why are you hiding your friendship?” he asked, pouting, “How are you expecting people to react? If anything, we want you to be friends.”

Jisung felt his blush darken.

“Because I don’t know what he wants from me.”

For once he answered honestly, but so much went unsaid.

_I don’t know what he wants from me._

_He’s not who he seems to be, or maybe that’s exactly who he is._

_He already knows so much about me I’m hiding from everybody else._

_I’m scared of what it means that I enjoy his company._

Jisung didn’t think Hyunjin understand the message behind his eyes and he was glad for it. They knew so much yet so little about each other. Maybe that’s the reason they were still friends. Jisung would walk to the ends of the earth for Hyunjin, he would for all his friends, and he knew they would do the same, but there were always those boundaries, the ones that weren't to be crossed.

The boundaries were undiscussed but unignorable. They were Felix's relationship with his father, the pressure for Seungmin to take over his parents' restaurant. They were Jisung's past and something untouchable in every corner of Hyunjin’s mind.

They were there, and they were limiting, but maybe that's the reason they were still friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in the beginning, I briefly tried to explain myself from the last chapter. I'm not going to really add anything on than during this time I actually did a bit of writing. Some of it is too difficult for me to look at, however this one piece I did at two in the morning I ended up revisiting and editing into a Minsung fic, and honestly, I'm pretty proud of it considering I cried the entire time.  
> If you haven't read it, I would love it if you would.  
> Its called 'Falling out of love' (I would link it but I don't know how).
> 
> I had something else I wanted to talk about, but I can't remember what. It will have to wait until next time
> 
> Byyyyyeeeeeee!  
> -Baby Bear xxx


	27. Chapter 27 (Its fun having secrets sometimes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one everybody!

Jeongin and Minho walked out to the front of school together when the final bell rang. Jeongin’s class had been across the halls from Minho and he had chased Minho down the stairs until he caught up, breathing heavily but grinning none the less.

Minho felt his lips curl up looking at the boy’s braces. It was impossible not to smile when Jeongin did.

The warm summer air hit them as they exited the front door. Minho immediately felt the heat prickle on his skin, and he pulled at his t-shirt, trying to get the air to flow between the fabric and his body.

“I was complaining about the heat today,” Jeongin started to grumble, “and Felix laughed at me.” He pouted and Minho chuckled.

“Yeah Chan would too,” Minho responded, messing up Jeongin’s hair, “I think they’re proud of how hot it gets in Australia.”

Jeongin nodded enthusiastically.

“ _Spend Christmas in Sydney and you’ll know what a true summer’s like_.” Jeongin mocked Felix’s deep voice and Minho grinned.

“ _Melts your face off_.” Minho joined in a terrible Australian accent and Jeongin giggled.

Minho slowed as he saw Jisung standing by the side of the road waiting for him. Jeongin noticed his change in speed and looked back, then followed his gaze over to Jisung.

“Do you really hate him?” Jeongin asked, his brow furrowed, “I know he’s annoying, but you don’t hate him, right?”

Minho bit his lip.

“No,” he said softly, “I don’t”

Jeongin’s frown was replaced with a wide grin,

“Do you _like_ him?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and laughed at Minho’s disgusted face.

 _Yes, I like him_.

“No!” Minho pushed Jeongin’s side, “We’re friends.”

_Were they?_

“Are you sure?” Jeongin asked, extending the syllables of his words, “You guys were pretty close when I found you in the recording studios. You looked like you had been caught.”  
Minho blushed as he recalled the Monday morning after Deaun’s party. He remembered following Jisung to the recording studio to see if he was okay and being met with Jisung’s fear and anger. Jisung had said the things he shouldn’t have, and Minho fought back.

_“They say that you’re a monster. They say you don’t have a heart. You know I feel sorry for you, I don’t know what happened in your life to make you so fucked up.”_

Jisung had smiled as he spoke and the monster inside Minho had snapped.

Things were different now, weren’t they?

Jeongin had walked in as Minho caged Jisung in the chair, his hands on either arm, blocking Jisung in, their faces too close together for it to be considered normal. If Minho hadn’t been so angry maybe the lack of distance would have meant more.

Even at the time, Minho had worried that Jeongin would interoperate it wrong.

“Shut up Jeongin!” Minho pouted, “You just walked in at the wrong time.”

“ _Suuureeee_.” Jeongin wrinkled his nose playfully and Minho blushed again not really helping his case.

Jisung looked up from his phone and waved when he saw them walking towards him. Even from the distance Minho could see his beautiful heart-shaped smile and couldn’t help but smile back.

Things were definitely different now.

“Shit,” Jeongin stopped walking and Minho turned around, confused.

“What?” He asked. If Chan were here, he probably would have told Jeongin off for his language, Minho didn’t really care though.

“I left my baseball stuff in my locker,” Jeongin frowned and Minho rubbed the strap of his dance bag as if checking that he had it, “I have to go get it, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He turned around and started jogging back into the school, waving over his shoulder.

“Have fun on your date!” He called, without looking back.

“Hey!” Minho yelled after him, but Jeongin was already inside the building. From the road, Minho heard Jisung laugh and his blush returned.

“Ready for our date?” Jisung said grinning, his hands in his back pockets.

Minho rolled his eyes, but his heart skipped a beat.

_He doesn’t know. He doesn’t mean it like that._

“Yeah, let’s go.”

“You going to be okay to walk?” Jisung asked his eyes flicking down to Minho’s hurt leg. Minho had thought he had done a better job of hiding it.

“I’ll be fine.”

Jisung shrugged, but his eyes still looked hesitant.

The walk to Jisung’s wasn’t too far and a lot of it was the same route to Minho’s apartment block. The afternoon sun was strong on their skin and Minho could feel sweat building underneath the straps of his backpack.

The heat didn’t seem to bother Jisung.

He hummed along with the cicadas, singing the song of summer, seemingly energized by the warmth. His skin glistened slightly, the only sign that perhaps he wasn’t as unaffected as he appeared, but it only made the honey colour of his skin more alluring. Summer suited Jisung.

Minho let Jisung talk, he didn’t really have much to say himself, and there wasn’t much he would rather do than listen to Jisung.

Jisung told Minho stories about all the shops down the street, full of mischief, nostalgia and nameless people. He told Minho about late-night adventures, riding down the main street at midnight when no one else was around.

Minho hadn’t really spent much time exploring the city, despite having moved back two years ago. To him it was just a city but listening to Jisung it felt more like the sort of place that memories were made.

Jisung didn’t look at Minho much as he spoke. There was a soft sadness behind his eyes, the bittersweet feeling that comes with reminiscing a time gone by obvious in the tone of his voice.

The fell silent for a moment, Minho stealing side glances at Jisung as they walked. Occasionally Jisung would look back and their eyes would meet. Minho smiled slightly and Jisung smirked as if they were sharing a joke.

“I want ice cream,” Jisung decided suddenly as he watched Minho pull at the fabric of his shirt again, “come on I know I good place.”

Minho allowed Jisung to grab his hand and drag him towards the small cluster of shops. Jisung babbled something about the best flavours and the time he got two for free, but Minho wasn’t really listening. There was something wonderful about being pulled along by Jisung, weaving in-between strangers, and being witness to the excitement that only Jisung could really provide.

The shop was one of the smaller ones, tucked away in the corner, but it had a charm to it that was indescribable. It looked like the sort of place you fell in love.

“Hellloooooo!” Jisung called. The bell above the door rang as they entered. Minho followed in shyly.

“Jisung!” The older lady behind the counter grinned at him with a gummy smile, “Back again!”

Jisung pouted and puffed out his cheeks,

“Hey, it's hot!” he whined, and the old lady chuckled, “I can have ice-cream when it’s hot.”

“You’ll get fat.” She warned, and Jisung laughed.

“You say that every time.”

The lady turned to Minho, who shrunk a little under her gaze but still returned her smile.

“This is Minho,” Jisung introduced him, pulling him forward and linking their elbows together. Minho went pink and greeted her with a tiny nod of his head.

“What flavour do you want?” Jisung asked, “Mrs Park makes them all herself.”

The old lady nodded proudly,

“The peach is a new summer special.”

Jisung clapped his hands once and Minho bit his lip to hide the fond smile threatening to show.

“I’ll have a scope of that and one of vanilla. What about you Minho.”

Minho looked at the range, his mind running circles trying to make the decision quickly. All the labels blended, and Minho looked back at Jisung with wide eyes.

“I don’t know.”

Jisung grinned anyway.

“I recommend mango. It’s always been one of my favourites.”

Minho didn’t think he’d ever had mango ice-cream before, but as soon as Jisung suggested it Minho agreed. Nothing Jisung recommended could ever be bad.

Jisung tried to convince him to get two scoops too, but Minho declined. He shouldn’t have really been getting any at all, with all the dance performances coming up, but as Jisung handed the cone over, their hands brushing, Minho didn’t regret it.

Jisung paid without discussion, which Minho was thankful for. Minho had already known that money for the month was going to be tight, but the wave of bills that had arrived that morning only made the worry more present.

“Stay out of trouble Jisung.” Mrs Park said as they were leaving.

Jisung grinned and waved his ice-cream as a sort of goodbye,

“When am I ever causing trouble?”

Mrs Park rolled her eyes playfully and Minho and Jisung said goodbye as left the shop, the bell ringing once again as they exited.

Jisung licked his ice-cream and Minho stared at Jisung’s mouth as his tongue darted across his lips. They glistened with spit and sugar and for a moment Minho wondered what his kiss would taste like. Minho’s eyes widened at the realisation of his own thoughts and his face warmed up.

He licked his own ice-cream, looking at the floor.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Minho looked up to see that Jisung was watching him, a lazy smile across his face.

Minho hummed in response; it was good. Maybe it only tasted that way because Jisung had picked it out.

“How’s yours?” Minho asked not making eye contact, his cheeks still red.

“Amaaaazzing!” Jisung cried dramatically throwing his arms out. A lady passing by them stared and Minho burst out laughing.

“You want to try?” Jisung asked holding out the dessert and Minho’s laughter faltered.

“N-no it's okay,” He stuttered, eyes wide. Jisung just smiled and brought the ice-cream up to Minho’s face.

“Come on, I insist.”

Minho thought that he would do anything if it made Jisung smile, so he leant forward and licked the ice-cream.

“Do you like it?” Jisung asked eagerly and Minho nodded.

He liked it a lot, and in that moment, Minho realised this is what Jisung’s kiss would taste like. Peach and mango ice-cream. He would taste like summer.

Minho’s blush darkened.

“Yeah, its, good.”

Jisung didn’t seem to notice his panic and started walking back down the road, managing to both eat the ice-cream and talk at the same time. Minho remembered when he had found Jisung annoying for being so loud, now he was thankful for the sound of his voice.

Jisung’s apartment wasn’t far from the main street. It was surrounded by a tall hedge that seemed impossibly dense and square. Minho had noticed that a lot of rich people had these sorts of shrubbery, to Minho it always felt like they were hiding something. Jisung punched in the code at the gate without covering it and pushed it open. His hands left sticky handprints on the iron.

“I usually take the stairs, but we can use the elevator if you want.”

“The stairs are fine.” The elevator hadn’t worked when Minho had moved into his apartment block and still didn’t two years later. He was used to the stairs.

Unlike at Minho’s the stairwell was clean and open, it had windows all the way up that looked over the city; the view was nice. Jisung didn’t talk much as they climbed and didn’t say anything when they reached the fourth floor.

They stopped outside the door and Jisung hesitated before unlocking it.

“My dad’s supposed to come home today, I’m not sure if he’ll be here yet,” Jisung whispered his hand on the doorknob. He sounded nervous.

Minho nodded and was about to ask where he’d been, but Jisung opened the door before he’d gotten the chance.

He put his finger to his lips and led Minho down the hallway. Minho hadn’t realised that apartments had hallways; his certainly didn’t.

The hallway opened up into a kitchen; it had marble countertops and a large island in the middle. It looked expensive.

“This way,” Jisung waved him over. Minho followed him through the living room and into Jisung’s room, hesitating slightly before entering. Jisung’s room was a mess and Jisung flushed pink when he saw Minho looking around.

“I’m not great at cleaning,” he admitted in a hushed voice.

“No, you’re not.” Minho agreed teasingly and Jisung smiled, embarrassed but sharing the joke.

He opened his wardrobe and, as Minho watched, started emptying it, throwing the seemingly endless pile of clothes on the bottom out onto the floor.

He grabbed the black paint-spattered hoodie but looked over at Minho before lifting it up.

“Can you shut the door?” Jisung asked and Minho nodded.

Once the door was shut, Jisung picked up the hoodie to reveal his collection of paints.

“Hand me my bag.”

Minho grabbed Jisung’s bad from where he had shrugged it off at the door and gave it to Jisung.

“Thanks.”

Jisung emptied the entirety of the bad onto the bed, his school books spilling onto the floor, and started arranging the cans so they would all fit. To Minho, it didn’t seem like it was possible, but Jisung managed, even finding a little bit of space to stuff the paint-splattered hoodie in.

There was a sound from the kitchen; Jisung ignored it so Minho did too.

“Do you want to get changed?” Jisung asked, quickly looking Minho up and down, “I don’t want you to get paint on your uniform.”

“Um... Yeah, good idea.” Minho shuffled awkwardly, the only clothes he had with him were the ones he had danced in, which probably didn’t smell great anymore.

Jisung handed him a thin hoodie off the pile,

“It’s clean, I promise.”

Minho took it slowly. He dropped his bags down to the ground and started unbuttoning his shirt. Jisung was watching still and Minho stopped at the third button. Minho was wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath, but it still felt intimate to have Jisung watching him.

“Sorry.” Jisung turned his head away.

“It's okay,” Minho responded quietly, pulling the hoodie over his head, and stuffing his uniform into his dance bag.

He turned his own back as Jisung pulled his own uniform off. He too was wearing a t-shirt underneath, but Minho didn’t think he could handle watching him undress.

“Okay, let's go,” Jisung said and Minho turned back around.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

When Jisung picked up the backpack the cans clinked loudly and Jisung wrinkled his nose.

“Like that’s not the most obvious thing ever.” He whined and Minho bit the inside of his cheek.

Jisung reopened his bedroom door but froze in the doorway. From over his shoulder, Minho caught a glimpse of a man sitting at the kitchen table eating cereal, even though it was mid-afternoon. The man stood up quickly when he saw them too.

“Jisung.”

“Dad.”

Minho’s bag slipped off his shoulder and he pulled it back up again.

“I didn’t realise you were home. I would have said hi as soon as I came in.” There was a cheeriness in Jisung’s voice that, to Minho, sounded forced.

“It's okay,” The man shook his head and stepped out from behind the table.

“Mum’s at work?” Jisung asked and the man nodded.

“Yeah, not a late shift though.”

The conversation was so tense, so falsely happy.

“Well…” Jisung said awkwardly, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Me too.”

The man lifted his arms slightly, almost offering a hug. Jisung either didn’t notice or pretended not to, and his arms dropped again.

Minho pulled up his bag strap again. It was so, so awkward.

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself.” The man turned his attention to Minho, who was still behind Jisung, “I’m Jisung’s dad.”

Minho nodded his head politely,

“Nice to meet you, I’m Minho.”

The shook hands, but the distance between them was uncomfortably large and Minho had to lean over Jisung to reach.

“Where are you boys off too.” Jisung’s dad rocked back on his feet, his eyes flicking briefly to Jisung’s backpack, which was bulging slightly with the amount of stuff he had squished into it.

“Hyunjin’s, to play video games.”

Minho was floored about how easily Jisung lied. He hadn’t seemed like the sort of person who could do that.

Liars were dangerous. Kiwoo had taught him that at the same time he taught Minho to do so. Jisung didn’t seem dangerous.

“Do you need a lift?” Jisung’s dad asked. He sounded unsure of his own question.

“No, we’re fine.” Jisung said lightly, “It’s not far.”

“Oh… Okay,” Jisung’s dad walked them to the door. The clinking of Jisung’s bag was painfully obvious but his dad didn’t say anything, even though Minho was sure he must have heard.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t wait up,” Jisung responded with a forced smile that did little to disguise the sharpness of the statement.

Jisung guided Minho back to the staircase, not looking back, even though they hadn’t heard the door shut and his dad was no doubt still watching.

“I hate it when he’s home,” Jisung grumbled once they had descended one set of stairs. Minho winced slightly ever step. Going down hurt a lot more than going up.

“I hate it when he’s gone too.” Jisung sighed and kicked at the corner of the wall.

Minho didn’t say anything. He wondered how he would feel if his dad tried to contact him again. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but maybe he had been waiting for him.

“I just want to have a normal family for once,” Jisung continued to rant and Minho let him, “I want to come home and not be surprised if one of my parents is actually home.” He let out a short angry sound and stomped loudly down the next stair.

They walked down the next set in silence.

“I’m sorry.”

Minho looked over at Jisung. His head was bowed slightly, he looked embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Minho said softly.

They fell silent again as Jisung pushed the front door and held it open for Minho before exiting himself. They didn’t walk straight to the gate, instead, Jisung walked around the side of the building and Minho followed him. Jisung fished around in his pocket and pulled out a small key which he used to unlock a red bike from the rack before them.

“It’s fine to walk,” Minho said, eyeing the bike nervously as Jisung wheeled it out and towards the gate.

“I think I’ve made you walk enough,” he looked back over his shoulder, grinning, “Come on it will be fun.”

And Minho agreed because he would do anything to see Jisung’s smile.

Minho was right to be nervous. Jisung was a reckless rider, weaving in between cars and jumping up onto the pavement when it suited him. Minho’s grip on Jisung’s shoulders was deathly tight and the backpack between them stuck into Minho’s ribs, but the risk felt more like freedom. Together they cried out and laughed and Minho thought for a moment that this is what life was supposed to feel like.

When they arrived, Minho was almost disappointed. He stumbled off the back of the bike, where he had been perched on the crossbar of the back wheel. His legs were shaky, but he was still laughing.

“I’m never letting you do that again,” Minho said breathlessly and Jisung grinned as he propped the bike against the wall.

“It was fun though?”

“Yeah, it was.”

Jisung looked away, but Minho let his gaze linger a little longer.

“He really needs to re-install that bell,” Jisung said like Minho would understand and Minho finally looked away to face the shop.

“What bell?” he asked, partially due to curiosity, and partially due to the fact he liked listening to Jisung talk.

“We used to ring this old rusty bell beside the door, so he’d know it was us and let us in, even when he was closed.”

The unnamed people again. Minho didn’t ask, because once upon a time, he had promised not to ask questions.

The shop wasn’t closed yet and Jisung pushed the door open. Minho didn’t miss a small pet door installed into it.

“Luis,” Jisung called out, holding the door open for Minho.

A young man looked over from behind the counter, where he was assisting a customer, and waved.

“Sup Jisung, I’ll be over in a minute.”

Jisung nodded and wandered over to a couch pushed up against the back wall. He flopped down on it like he had done it a million times before, and Minho sat down beside him hesitantly.

He stared around the shop. He had never been a skater, but he had been involved with many and a place like this felt so familiar. Perhaps it felt a little safer here, you didn’t feel like you needed to watch your back, it was possible to relax.

Jisung rested his legs across Minho’s lap and started scrolling on his phone, humming every now and then, but not offering to show any of it to Minho.

Luis didn’t take very long to finish up with the customer, but in that time, Minho managed to slip into a position of relaxation while simultaneously being on edge with the memories places like this brought back.

“Okay,” Luis brushed his hands off on his jeans as he came over. He was taller than Minho, lanky too. He had that slightly unsettling vibe that Minho had once been used to, which was only accentuated by the piercings, red hair. Still, there was also something trusting about him. His eyes were soft instead of sunken, there was still some childlike youth in his face. He didn’t put Minho on edge as much as he should have.

“Okay,” Jisung repeated, swinging his legs off Minho, and sitting up, “What’s the plan? Oh yeah, this is Minho.”

Minho smiled as Luis greeted him and introduced himself, but his heart dropped uncontrollably. He hated that Jisung had added him on like an afterthought, he hated that he cared about it so much.

“Minho” Luis repeated his name like maybe he had heard of him before. Minho brushed it off.

“Right, the plan.” Luis clapped his hands together; Minho and Jisung both stood up.

“I know you suggested redoing the old one,” Luis gestured vaguely over the other side of the shop, “but I’m kind of attached to it. Could you do a new one?”

Jisung nodded,

“Yeah, for sure, but you’re sure you want to keep it? It’s kinda bad.” He glanced backwards and Minho followed his gaze. He was looking at a grenade, spray-painted near the base of the wall on the right side of the counter. The bomb was in the middle of exploding, but instead of fire, there were hundreds of flowers bursting out of it. Minho thought it was beautiful.

“I’m definitely keeping it,” Luis said firmly and Jisung put his hands up in defeat.

Minho started to wander around as the two discussed the details of the work. He took a closer look at Jisung’s old work and was once again amazed by the detail of Jisung’s art. It looked like he had used markers over the top of spray paint to create the detail. Minho wasn’t sure as he wasn’t an artist, but he had been friends with many and had seen them do similar things.

He stepped back to get a look from a distance. His foot collided with something and it squeaked loudly. Minho jumped up into the air and gasped loudly, his hand over his heart. From the other side of the shop, he heard Jisung giggling at him. It didn’t feel bad though.

He leant down and picked up a small stuffed mouse, presumably with the squeaker inside. It was attached to a string and Minho swung it around.

“Minnie really needs to stop bringing them down here.”

Minho spun around to see Luis walking over with his hand outstretched to take the toy.

“You have a cat?” Minho asked, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice.

Luis nodded, a small smile growing,

“Yeah, she’ll probably come down sometime.”

“Minho has cats too,” Jisung called out from where he was starting to drag furniture away from the wall. Minho didn’t think Jisung had known.

“Really?” Luis asked, walking behind the counter. Minho followed him over.

“Yeah, three.” Minho pulled out his phone to show Luis a picture.

“Aww, they’re cute.” Luis leaned over the counter to look properly. Minho grinned.'  
“Yeah, I love them.”

Luis nodded but didn’t say anything else. He started pulling a stack of boxes from out behind the register and into the main section of the shop. When Minho took a closer look, he could see they were full of folded clothing, tags attached still. Luis looked like he was struggling a little and Minho felt awkward just watching, so he stepped forwards and started to help with the moving.

“Thanks” Luis grunted, and Minho nodded, “I need to get them into the van if you want to help.”

“Sure.”

Minho lifted a box properly, holding it against his chest. This chest screamed where his ribs were bruised, and Minho adjusted himself, so it didn’t hurt quite as bad. He could feel Luis watching him and Minho forced himself not to react any more than he already had.

“The vans out the back.” Luis lifted his own box, struggling slightly. They were a lot heavier than one would expect.

Minho followed him out through the back door into a small alleyway where his van was parked. Luis opened the boot and Minho dropped his load in. He was about to return into the shop to get another, but Luis put out a hand to stop him. Panic ran through Minho’s veins, but Luis’s eyes were soft, and Minho relaxed slightly.

“Can we talk?” Luis asked and Minho nodded nervously.

He sat down on the bumper of the van and patted it, signifying for Minho to join him. Minho did, slightly hesitantly.

“First,” Luis started, “are you okay?”

Minho stared at him, eyes wide.

“W-What?” He stumbled over his words, panic creeping up again.

“You look hurt,” Luis said simply, not breaking eye contact.

“I got into a fight,” Minho admitted, clenching his jaw slightly with the memory. So much more shit was going to come from this.

“It wasn’t a random one was it?” Luis asked, leaning back against the box Minho had put in the boot. Minho stared at him again.

“What do you mean?”

“It was targeted, organised,” Luis explained, “I don’t think you started it, but you definitely knew what you were doing, you probably won, right?” He gestured at Minho’s hands and the cuts along the knuckles. Minho pulled his hands up into the sleeves of his hoodie.

“How can you tell?” He asked quietly and Luis smiled sadly.

“I’ve been involved with the streets longer than I would like to admit. I’ve come to recognise the signs. I could tell you were a street boy as soon as I saw your eyes. You’re a pretty boy Minho, but you know how to look scary.” Luis turned his head, so he wasn’t looking at Minho anymore, just staring at the roof of the van.

“You’ve got to be careful Minho. I’ve heard things about you before-”

“From Jisung?” Minho interrupted.

“Partially, but others too. You don’t have any alliances, do you?”

Minho shook his head. He hadn’t made any friends in the street scene after moving back to the city. He didn’t think he could manage after losing Kiwoo.

“You’re a fighter, and a bloody good one from what I hear.”

“I’m a dancer too.” Minho interrupted again. It was the first time he had ever felt the need to separate himself from the persona the fighting scene had shaped him into.

Luis nodded,

“Good, stay a dancer. Leave fighting if you can, don’t seek them out, keep Jisung away from them.”

“Keep Jisung… what?” Minho tilted his head and Luis laughed coldly.

“You heard me. Jisung and Tommy have been this close,” He held his thumb and forefinger barely a millimetre apart, “to getting involved in gangs more times than I could count. Somehow, I always managed to keep them out, but I don’t really have that authority anymore. If Jisung’s getting back into painting again,” He shook his head, “I’m worried that’s the first step.”

It was always Jisung and Tommy.

Tommy.

Minho didn’t think he could tell Jisung yet. He wasn’t sure he ever would. It would be kinder on him to forget about it, Jisung would never have to know.

“Why do you think that I can keep him safe?” Minho asked, picking at the fabric of his jeans.

“He trusts you,” Luis said simply, “he wouldn’t have introduced us if he didn’t, and…” He paused, turning back around to face Minho, “I can tell you care about him.

Minho didn’t say anything, he just continued to pull strands of cotton out from his pants.

Luis stood up.

“I’ll get the last boxes,” He smiled, but Minho couldn’t find it inside himself to return it, “You go help Jisung. I’m sure he would appreciate it.”

Luis walked back into the shop first. Minho waited a couple of moments before following him. The pain and heaviness of his past that had been building up disappeared slightly when he stepped into the store and could here Jisung humming along to the music. He had the hoodie pulled up over his mouth and was spraying the entire wall a dark blue.

“You’re back!” Jisung pulled the fabric down off his face so that Minho could see his smile.

“Yep.” Minho smiled too. They hadn’t even been gone for that long.

“Excellent. You can help,” Jisung picked up another can and held it out for Minho. Minho took it reluctantly.

“What do I do?” Minho asked as Jisung pulled up his hoodie again.

Jisung shrugged,

“Don’t think about it too much.” His voice was slightly muffled through the fabric.

Minho pulled up his own hoodie, the one Jisung had leant him, over his nose and mouth too. The room already smelled like chemicals.

He shook the can nervously and Jisung stopped painting to look at him.

“Relax, stop thinking, just paint.”

_“That’s the point! Stop trying, stop thinking, just move”_

For a slit second Jisung looked exactly like Kiwoo did all those years ago. Kiwoo had told him to stop thinking and Minho had. For a moment Minho wondered if he would kiss Jisung too, he certainly wanted to. The moment passed and Jisung just looked like Jisung again. He wasn’t as brave as he used to be.

Jisung watched as Minho finally stepped closer to the wall and joined in. Once he started it was easier to stop thinking. It was relaxing, working side by side, silent, but comfortable. Behind them, Minho could hear Luis carrying out the last of the boxes and then the signature ‘meow’ of a cat.

He spun around ridiculously fast, beside him Jisung giggled.

“Is that your cat?” He asked, putting his paint can down and cooing at the animal.

Luis laughed.

“Yeah,” he rubbed the cats head, “this is Minnie.”

“Hello Minnie,” Minho said in his baby voice, specifically reserved for cats, “I’m Minho.”

“Minnie and Minnie,” Jisung called out playfully from behind him and Luis laughed again.

“I’ve got to take the van over to the other shop, will you guys be okay here by yourself for now. I’ve closed now so there won’t be any customers.” Luis shook the keys to the van and Minho’s whole body tensed.

“Yeah we’ll be fine,” Jisung waved his hand, in a joking ‘leave now’ gesture. Minho just nodded and scooped up the cat gently.

“Sweet. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so if you leave before me, just lock the doors.”

“Sure thing,” Jisung called out as Luis waved a quick goodbye and left thought the back door again.

Suddenly the shop felt very quiet.

Minho carried Minnie over to the red couch they had been sitting on earlier and lay across it, the cat resting on his chest.

Jisung continued to paint and Minho just watched him, slightly dozing off every now and then. Every time he reopened his eyes Jisung’s painting only became more and more beautiful. Sleepily he thought it would be impossible for anything Jisung created to not be stunning.

At some point he must have properly fallen asleep because it wasn’t very long until Jisung was shaking his shoulder gently, waking him up.

“I’m done,” Jisung whispered and Minho’s eyes fluttered open. He was crouched down beside the couch, so their faces were level.

“What?”

“I’m finished,” Jisung repeated, smiling widely.

Minho rubbed his eyes and sat up. Minnie was no longer on his chest.

“How long was I asleep for?” He asked groggily.

“A couple hours,” Jisung smiled again, “It’s just gotten dark.”

Minho looked around and saw there was no longer any natural light coming through the large shop windows. The store felt completely different at night.

“Come have a look?” Jisung grabbed Minho’s hand and pulled him off the couch. Minho let Jisung drag him over to the wall, the haze of sleep slowly lifting. His hand felt far too comfortable in Jisung’s grasp.

Minho blinked twice before what he was looking at registered.

“Wow,” he breathed and Jisung grinned.

On top of the dark blue background Minho had helped apply, was seemingly the whole universe and in the middle of his was a woman. She had skin as dark as the night and hair that shone brighter than the stars. She was sitting with her back turned and the universe rippled around her like it was water. In her hand, she held a planet as simply as if it was a ball. Minho was in awe of the power she held.

“It’s stunning.”

He wasn’t just in awe of the painting; he was in awe of Jisung and everything about him.

“Who is it?” He asked finally, his voice still hushed in amazement.

“God, I think,” Jisung shrugged “someone like that.”

“Someone like that…” Minho repeated, stepping forwards and running his hand over the wall, so lightly that the tips of his fingers only just brushed the surface.

“Who do you think it is?” Jisung asked squeezing his hand. His thumb ran gently over Minho’s busted knuckles.

Minho didn’t answer straight away. He was stuck in his own head, wondering what his true answer was and what was the response Jisung wanted to hear. He didn’t come to a conclusion.

“Fate, maybe?” Minho asked, rubbing his thumb against the palm of his hand nervously, “I mean maybe not, I don’t really know.”

Jisung tilted his head to the side and smiled softly.

“I think you do. There’s no right answer.”

“She can play with our lives so easily, manipulating the universe, so yeah fate I guess.”

“She can be fate if you want.”

Minho didn’t know what he wanted. Fate was scary. Was he destined to continue walking the same path he did? Was he afraid of becoming who he was promised to be?  
Instead, he just asked,

“What did Lia say?”

Jisung frowned at the wall,

“What do you mean?”

“Like, who does she think it is?” Minho shrugged, looking away.

“I didn’t ask.”

Minho spun back around again.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t ask,” Jisung repeated, “I didn’t want to share this with her.”

“Oh,” Minho fell silent.

“It’s fun have secrets like this sometimes,” Jisung explained, turning to face Minho. The felt a lot closer together than seemed necessary. Jisung’s hand still softly enclosed his own, and Minho whole body shivered with the contact.

Minho thought he had enough secrets already.

_I can’t afford to love him._

_But what if I already do?_

Jisung’s eyes were so dark and innocent. He gazed at Minho with such wonder and curiosity, that Minho thought it would be foolish to try and deny his feelings. The wide fearful eyes that Minho had once hated, were now so soft and caring Minho thought he might never be able to look away.

Minho knew his stare was lingering too long, but Jisung wasn’t looking away either. The world seemed to fade away and all that was left was Minho and Jisung. The harsh smell of chemicals in the air was dizzying and intoxicating. Minho was hyper-aware of Jisung’s fingers brushing his wrist and the fabric of Jisung’s hoodie pressed against his skin.

Jisung broke eye contact first.

“I finished packing up before I woke you,” He gave Minho’s hand a final squeeze before dropping it, “Let’s go.”

Minho tore his gaze away, nodding even though he knew that Jisung couldn’t see him doing it.

“Okay.”

The air outside was still warm despite the sun having gone down. Jisung locked the door then slid the keys underneath, so they sat inside the shop in the middle of the entrance.

The action was so practiced, Minho wondered how many times he had done it before.

Jisung swung his leg over his bike and looked over his shoulder at Minho. Minho stared back.

“You coming?” Jisung asked teasingly, starting to ride in a circle around Minho.

Minho pulled his dance back over his shoulder,

“If you stop.”

Jisung grinned. Minho was spinning around so he could keep Jisung in view. The streets and shops behind him blurred into stripes of muted colours and stripes of light.  
“Make me,” Jisung challenged and Minho didn’t hesitate.

Jisung shrieked as Minho lunged forwards wrapping his arms around Jisung’s torso, pulling the boy towards him. Jisung fell off the bike into Minho’s chest, laughing and squealing as he did. The bike fell to the ground with a clatter; the bell on the handlebars rang as it hit the pavement, but neither of them paid it any attention.

Jisung laughed into Minho’s neck, hitting his chest with his fist. It hurt but it was worth holding Jisung close.

“That was terrifying.” Jisung cried, but he was still giggling.

“Am I allowed on now?” Minho asked smirking and Jisung hit his chest again.

“I hate you,” Jisung pouted, but they both knew he didn’t mean it. Not anymore.

They rode the same way they had on the way there, Jisung peddling and Minho standing on the crossbar, holding onto Jisung’s shoulders, struggling slightly with both his school and dance bags. Their bodies were a lot closer without all the emptied paint cans. The backpack still kept them far enough apart for it not to mean anything, but the distance was small enough for Minho to imagine. Did Jisung’s touch ever mean more than friendship? Minho had watched Jisung lay himself out over his friendships more times than he could count. He was a touchy person. His affection didn’t mean anything special. Maybe it just meant that he wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Reach into my pocket.”

“What?” Minho asked, his grip of Jisung’s shoulder loosening briefly in shock.

“My phone,” Jisung explained.

“Oh.”

It felt far too intimate reaching around Jisung and slipping his arm into his hoodie pocket. For a moment Jisung was enclosed in Minho’s hold and Minho was in awe how tiny his waist felt in his arms. His hand closed around the phone and he brought his arm back before his touch lingered too long. Jisung slowed down so Minho could safely hold on with one hand.

“There’s wire headphones in the top pocket.”

Jisung had used his red headphones in the shop. Minho was confused for a moment before he realised that the only reason Jisung would ask for another pair is that you can share wire headphones. He put Jisung’s phone in his own pocket and fumbled with the zip, attempting to get it undone with only one hand.

“Stop wiggling so much,” Jisung complained as the bike tipped slightly too far to the right.

“Sorry, sorry, wait I got it.” Minho’s fingers tangled in a wire and he pulled it out, holding it between his teeth as he re-did the zip back up.

He plugged the jack of the headphones in the carefully placed on of the buds in Jisung’s ear.

“Your hands are cold,” Jisung complained and Minho flicked the side of his head.

“Stop complaining. I just risked death for you!”

Jisung snorted,

“Death? Yeah right.”

“With your driving?” Minho asked teasingly and raised his eyebrows. Jisung laughed even though he couldn’t see Minho’s face.

“Shut up,” Minho could hear both a pout and a giggle behind Jisung’s words, “Just play something.”

“I would, but your phones locked,” Minho said, poking the side of Jisung’s neck.

“Shit, um, can you put the password in for me.”

_You would trust me with that?_

“990403” Jisung relayed the numbers as Minho punched them in. Somehow Minho could hear the embarrassment in Jisung’s voice and Minho realised that the number was a date. He didn’t ask.

“What should I play.”

“Something fun.” Jisung shrugged and the hand Minho was holding on with lifted.

Ultimately Minho just shuffled a ready-made, new release Kpop playlist. So much light-hearted music had been coming out with the arrival of summer and something about singing along to pop songs as you speed down empty streets felt so right.

Minho knew they must look mad from an outsider’s point of view, but he didn’t really care. People had been staring at him long enough that he should have been used to it, sometimes he thought he was. It was a nice change to be stared at for having fun.

“You’re a good singer,” Jisung said in-between songs.

“Thanks,” Minho said, out of breath and blushing. There was a brief period, just after moving back to the city when he considered becoming an idol trainee. By that point his looks were obvious, and he was clearly a good dancer. He had sung quite a bit then, in the privacy of his tiny apartment, hoping maybe with practice he would be good enough to pass an audition. The foolish bit of hope died inside when he realised that his past would always catch up with him. No company would want an idol who had been involved with gangs.  
He didn’t say this to Jisung. He just accepted his compliment, then deflected it with one of his own.

“Not as good as you.”

The next song started before Jisung got a chance to reply.

“Turn here.” Minho pointed to the road that joined on the left side.

Jisung turned his head around to try and look at Minho, the bike swerved dangerously.

“What are you doing, look forwards!” Minho pushed Jisung’s face back to look in front still but laughing.

“I thought your house was off Parkside?” Jisung asked and Minho blushed with the reminder that Jisung had slept over.

“It is,” Minho said simply as Jisung tuned onto the road Minho had pointed at. The one that led away from his house.

“Where am I taking you?” Jisung asked, ringing the bell for no apparent reason.

“It’s fun having secrets sometimes.” Minho quoted Jisung and snickered when the younger reached around and hit him, causing the bike to swerve again.

“This is free labour,” Jisung grumbled, “It’s immoral!” He didn’t slow down though, and soon they were back to singing, Minho occasionally calling a new direction. Eventually, they resorted to Minho squeezing one of Jisung’s shoulder when they should turn, so they didn’t have to stop singing.

It was surprising, how easily they fell into rhythm with each other and comfortable they were in each other’s company. If fate was real, Minho would like to think he was fated to meet Jisung, but destiny scared him too dream about that idea.

“Ah, we’re here,” Minho called, pointing over at the dance studio, the lights were still on despite all classes having finished for the night.

“Dance?” Jisung asked, ridding onto the path before stopping, “Aren’t you a little… sore for that?” His eyes flickered up and down Minho’s body, taking in all the clues pointing towards hidden injuries.

“I’ll be fine.” Minho shrugged, attempting to get off the bike gracefully and doing an awful job of it.

_I’ll be fine_

_I don’t really have another choice._

“Is the door unlocked?” Jisung asked, it sounded like he didn’t really want Minho to go. Minho’s heart skipped a beat.

Minho leant on the door and it pushed open under his weight. It didn’t really matter; he had his own set of keys. Music from one of the studios carried down the hallway and even faint Minho could recognise Hobi’s playlist.

Hobi wouldn’t mind. Minho didn’t think he would anyway.

“You want to come in?” Minho was still leaning against the door, but as he spoke, he started to put more weight on it, slipping inside.

Jisung tapped his foot on the ground,

“Should I?”

“If you want?” Minho shrugged, only his head and shoulders poking around the door.

“That’s not an answer!” Jisung whined, stomping his foot. Minho shrugged again, letting go of the door, watching it slowly fall back into place. Jisung stared at him through the glass, his mouth open in offence.

Jisung slammed the door open again and stepped in his hands on his hips.

“I’m coming in.” He declared as if he had been the one to suggest it. Minho laughed and ruffled his hair.

“I can see that.”

Jisung linked their elbows together and Minho led them down the hall.

_It doesn’t mean anything, Jisung is like this with all his friends._

Hobi was in studio three, Minho didn’t bother knocking before entering.

“Hi Hyung,” Minho called, holding the door open for Jisung.

Hobi was in the middle of dancing but waved anyway.

“Minho! Minho’s friend!”

In the mirror, Minho saw Hobi’s eyes flicker to Jisung before returning to his own reflection. Hobi’s gaze when he practiced was so analytical and unnerving. Minho had been on the receiving end of that glare thousands of times; it never got any easier.”

He would great them properly when he was finished. Minho wasn’t offended.

“He’s so good,” Jisung whispered and Minho nodded, pride swelling in his chest.

“He’s the best,” Minho responded, quiet enough that Hobi wouldn’t hear.

The music ended and Hobi doubled over to catch his breath. Minho gestured for himself and Jisung to come further into the room. Jisung was uncharacteristically shy.

“You’re here early Minho” Hobi grinned when he finally stood up.

Minho shrugged,

“I wasn’t working today, spent the afternoon with Jisung.” Admitting they had spent time together didn’t feel as shameful as it once had.

“Jisung?” Hobi repeated, then gasped happily and turned to Jisung. Jisung made wide, nervous eyes at Minho who just smiled encouragingly.

“The Han Jisung who made I See?” Hobi asked excitedly and Jisung’s eyes widened further.

“Hoseok Hyung helped me with the choreography,” Minho explained and Jisung nodded slowly.

“Has he seen it?” Hobi asked and Minho shook his head.

“He’s not allowed to until the performance.”

Jisung pouted and puffed out his cheeks, before letting the air pop out his mouth.

_Cute_

“It’s pretty soon isn’t it?” Hobi asked and Minho sighed.

“Sooner than we’re ready for. Mediation is next Monday, and the showcase is Friday the same week.” He sighed again and rubbed his forehead with his hand. Both Jisung and Hobi stared at him with worry. Minho forced himself to smile.

“We’ll be fine.”

Jisung’s phone dinged inside Minho’s pocked. He pulled it out and handed it over without looking at the notification. Jisung nodded his head in thanks and excepted the device.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Hyung, I got to go.” Jisung looked up from his phone, his eyes a little panicked and a lot sorry.

“Is everything okay?” Minho stepped forwards, gently holding onto Jisung’s wrist. Jisung swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah, it’s nothing serious, it’s just my mum… it’s just my mum,” he repeated and shook his head, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slipped his hand out of Minho’s grasp.

“Wait! Your hoodie!” Minho ran to the door and called out down the hall.

“Keep it!” Jisung yelled back, there was the tiniest hint of happiness in his voice and Minho’s worries lifted slightly.

Hobi joined him at the door.

“Do you think everything’s okay.”

“I have no idea,” Minho admitted, watching Jisung swing his leg over the bike and disappear into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some cute Minsung for you. I don't have much to say other than it's been a long week and its midnight and I'm tired. I'm happy I got this done though.


	28. Chapter 28 (Jisung didn’t apologise, Minho didn’t look like he was waiting on one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry I've been gone for so long. I really didn't mean to, I've just been going through a difficult time with school and friends and decided to take a break from writing for a bit. I enjoy writing and I don't want it to seem like a chore. So hi again I guess.

Jisung was late for school on Tuesday. Everybody had already gone to class and the hallways were uncomfortably empty. The strips of lights reflected on the vinyl floor creating a dizzying pattern that Jisung only related to endless school days and the nauseating feeling that came along with hospitals.

Jisung hated hospitals, even more than school. He couldn’t understand how his mum could stand working there. There was nothing more suffocating than the endless white hallways, the smell of sickness and the lingering hopelessness and pain. Jisung hated hospitals a lot.

He hated that just when he had decided to stay with Minho, he was pulled away, and he hated that he ended up in the waiting room instead of having Minho walk him home.

He hated that his dad no longer knew how to deal with an attack, and he hated that even though his Mum was a nurse they still ended up in the hospital.

Felix was staring out the door when Jisung finally arrived outside the class, almost as if he were waiting. Jisung waved through the glass and Felix waved back, his face splitting into a wide grin.

Jisung opened the door and gained the rest of the class’s attention in the process.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

The teacher stared at him in disapproval but Jisung refused to shrink under his gaze. He didn’t offer an explanation and the teacher didn’t ask.

“Minho was asking about you this morning,” Felix whispered out the corner of his mouth when Jisung finally sat down in the empty seat beside him.

“Did he?” Jisung asked, “Is that a good thing?”

Felix shrugged,

“He was worried about you.”

“Oh,” Jisung didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t left Minho with an explanation; he had ridden his bike into the night leaving Minho in the dark.

“Jeongin said that you guys met up after school?” Felix whispered, not looking over at Jisung, as to not draw the teacher’s attention.

“Did he?” Jisung replied vaguely unzipping his backpack and pulling his laptop out.

Felix tapped his pen on the desk,

“Did you?”

There was a long pause where Jisung realised that maybe it wasn’t the best idea to lie.

“Yeah, we did.” Jisung nodded his head but didn’t look over.

“Really?” Felix sounded surprised; Jisung guessed that his response wasn’t what Felix had expected, “Does that mean you are friends now?”

“Maybe,” Jisung leant back as he waited for his laptop to turn on. His posture was relaxed but his heart was beating incredibly fast, “Sometimes it feels like we are. Sometimes it doesn’t.”

“Jeongin thinks you’re more than friends.” Felix smiled teasingly and poked Jisung’s arm with the end of his pen. It left a little mark on Jisung’s skin.

Jisung scoffed, rubbing away the ink,

“Yeah right.”

They must have been too loud, and the teacher looked up over the top of his book at them. Felix lifted his hand in apology, but he didn’t seem too sorry.

“I can’t believe you guys actually hung out together-,” Felix interrupted himself with a gasp, “Oh my god! This isn’t the first time is it?!” He grabbed Jisung’s shoulder and shook him slightly. Jisung stared at him.

“That’s why he messaged you, not Chan! Wait, were you with him then too?!” Felix continued slapping his hand down on the desk. The whole class was watching them, and Jisung sank in his seat, his ears pink.

“Maybe…” Jisung whispered and Felix gasped again.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Felix shook his head as the teacher glared at them.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jisung muttered, his entire face must be pink by this point, “We know some of the same people, that’s all.”

“Bullshit it’s not a big deal!” Felix lowered his voice slightly, but not enough as to stop the class from hearing, “We all thought you hated each other!”

“I don’t think he does.” Jisung frowned, recalling the events of the night before.

Minho seemed different now. He seemed livelier, more open, more human. His eyes didn’t have the ice and fire they did before. Jisung wasn’t as scared of him anymore.

There was something about being around him that made Jisung feel safe. Reaching out and holding Minho’s hand felt natural.

“Well, you did last time we talked about it.” Felix pouted and Jisung laughed quietly.

“Boys!”

Jisung jumped at the sound of the teacher’s voice.

“Sorry.” Felix sunk down in his seat, looking up with sad innocent eyes. Jisung didn’t think Felix realised how cute he was.

The screen of Jisung’s laptop faded to black with how long he had left the password screen up, and Jisung leant forward and scribbled the mouse around until it turned back on.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Felix whispered, his head tilted on the desk to face Jisung, “Chan said your song is going to get uploaded at some point today.”

Jisung snapped up with his words, his posture straightening.

“What?!” He whispered back sharply; the teacher glaring at them again.

“The one for the radio station,” Felix responded once the teacher had looked back down at their book, “They message him this morning and said it would be up by four.”

Jisung’s brain crashed. That was the best way he could explain it.

The station had been staggering the release of different groups to gain attention instead of dropping them all at once. Jisung had been monitoring the website carefully, seeing if they had a chance or not. The songs had only been gaining more attention, and surprisingly there was quite a lot of people invested in the competition, to the point where Jisung had overheard conversations about it in the hallway. Having their song released today would be perfect. The groups were currently at the height of the attention. The competition was still gaining fans and attention, but people hadn’t chosen their favourites yet.

“Oh my god,” Jisung whispered, his hands clenched on the surface of the desk. Felix snickered but reached over and rubbed his arm anyway.

“You’ll do great, don’t stress about it.”

Jisung tucked his knees up against his chest, shifting back in his chair so his feet would fit in front of him. The nerves were suddenly hitting. When it had first been announced Jisung hadn’t been worried at all, but since then it had become obvious that the competition wasn’t as small as they had originally thought. The other teams were much better than they were expecting, which was flattering, but the stakes were higher and the competition fiercer.

“It’s a bit scary,” Jisung bit his lip, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me as soon as I came in!”

Felix shrugged a little shyly,

“Minho was on my mind. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jisung smiled softly and ruffled Felix’s hair. Felix took things too seriously sometimes, “How the preparation for dance going-”

Jisung was interrupted by the teacher clearing his throat and leaning forwards over his desk, looking directly at them. Jisung glared back but Felix sunk down in his seat.

“Are you boys planning on doing any work?” He didn’t break his glare.

Felix nodded and looked back at his laptop, his cheeks pink. Jisung slumped back in his chair, not breaking his scowl until the teacher had looked away.

Jisung had work to do, he always did, but he spent the whole lesson on the radio stations website, constantly refreshing the page and re-reading the information about the other groups. There were a lot of idol trainees who had already gained a large following. They worried Jisung the most, as a lot of them already had fans before entering.

Their song wasn’t uploaded that lesson.

When the bell rang Jisung and Felix were asked to stay back, which they did reluctantly. Jisung stayed at his desk, packing away his belongings and Felix stood sheepishly behind his chair.

“Boys,” The teacher left his desk at the front and came to stand in front of them, “You were very disruptive today.”

Felix blushed. He hated being in trouble, it didn’t happen very often.

“I’m sorry,” Felix mumbled and Jisung almost saw the teacher smile. He probably had a soft spot for Lix; everybody did.

“Mr Lee, you can go, Mr Han, please stay back for a moment.”

Felix swung his bag over his shoulder and looked at Jisung worriedly. Jisung waved him off.

“I can wait outside?”

“Don’t worry,” Jisung tried to smile reassuringly, but his cheeks felt stiff, “I’ll meet you at the tables with the others.”

Felix nodded, but still hesitated at the door. The teacher didn’t start talking until Felix had completely left.

“Mr Han, you were late today. Care to explain why.”

Jisung bowed his head.

“I slept in sorry.”

He knew that it wasn’t an impressive reason, but it was the truth and sometimes honesty was best. The teacher didn’t seem pleased.

“Not only that, but you come in and are immediately disruptive.”

Jisung could feel the tips of his ears reddening uncontrollably. He couldn’t meet his teacher glare so close up.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, not knowing what he could say that could improve the situation.

“And on top of everything, you still haven’t uploaded the essay yet. I gave you an extension Mr Han, and you failed to meet it!” The teacher sounded exasperated and Jisung did truly feel sorry.

“I finished it,” Jisung whispered, “and I uploaded it this morning. I know it’s still late, I’m sorry.”

“Is that why you slept in?” The teacher’s voice hadn’t softened, “Because you stayed up all night finishing what was supposed to be handed up last Friday?”

Jisung shook his head.

“I finished it in study yesterday, I just wanted to proofread it and upload it once I got home.”

“And why didn’t you?” The teacher pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning forwards.

“I…” Jisung’s voice faltered. He hated having to talk about this, “I was at the hospital, Sir.”

The teacher visibly flinched.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jisung nodded hesitantly.

“My mother had an asthma attack and me and my father had to take her in. She’s okay now though.”

“I’m glad to hear.” The teacher replied awkwardly. The silence in the room was thick and heavy.

“You can go, Mr Han,” The teacher got up from his chair and gestured for Jisung to do the same, “I will accept the late submission.”

Jisung nodded in thanks and swung his backpack up around his shoulders.

The teacher held the door open for him,

“Next lesson please do some more work.” The teacher smiled at him, he looked tired.

“Yeah, I will,” Jisung mumbled sheepishly.

“See you tomorrow Mr Han,” The teacher shut the door again, pulling out the keys to lock it, “Don’t be late this time.”

“I won’t” Jisung promised as the teacher finished locking the door and turned the other way to walk towards the staff room. He lifted his hand in response but didn’t look back.

“Jisung”

Jisung spun around. Minho was leaning against the locker, his dance bag by his feet.

“Oh, Hi Minho.” Jisung sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He thought he saw Minho frown.

“Is everything okay?” Minho asked, falling in step with Jisung as they walked down the hall.

Jisung shrugged,

“Sort of. I’m sorry for leaving you yesterday.”

“Don’t be,” Minho’s hand twitched like he was thinking of reaching out but decided against it, “I was just worried, that’s all. Lia called after you left and said that you suddenly stopped messaging.”

“Oh…” Jisung’s cheeks felt warm.

“What happened?” Minho asked. Out the corner of his eye Jisung could see Minho watching him but didn’t turn to meet his gaze, “I mean you don’t have to say if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jisung bit the inside of his lip, “My mum has asthma, and it isn’t triggered often so she usually forgets to bring her ventilator with her places. Anyway, last night Dad tried to cook for her and ended up burning the food. The whole apartment was filled with smoke and when Mum came home her asthma was triggered. She didn’t have a ventilator on her, and Dad couldn’t find the one in the house. He doesn’t really know how to deal with them anymore. He hasn’t been there when ones happened for such a long time.”

Jisung looked over at Minho, who nodded reassuringly.

“He doesn’t know a lot about our lives anymore.” Jisung could hear the bitterness in his own voice.

“At least he’s there.” Minho shrugged and held the door to the courtyard open for Jisung.

“Sometimes,” Jisung grumbled as he walked through.

“More than mine,” Minho shrugged again but something had hardened in his eyes.

_‘He left when I was eight, last I heard he was living in Canada, I probably have half-siblings by now, not that I would know’_

Minho’s dad had left and had never tried contacting him. Jisung immediately felt guilty for complaining but didn’t think Minho would appreciate his pity.

Jisung didn’t apologise, Minho didn’t look like he was waiting on one.

“So,” Felix was laying on his stomach on the floor of the dance studios, his head propped up on his hands, “What were you doing with Jisung last night?” He smiled teasingly and Minho fidgeted with the hem of his shirt nervously.

Hyunjin looked over from where he was sitting up against the wall. His dark hair flopped in front of his eyes, clumped together in strands formed by sweat.

Minho sunk to the floor, his chest still heaving.

“Why aren’t you asking him?” Minho groaned as every muscle in his body screamed in pain. He was pushing himself too far. It probably wasn’t safe, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

“We did,” Hyunjin said, stretching his arms out in front of him then swinging them backwards, “He won’t tell us.”

Minho laughed,

“Maybe I won’t either.”

“Nooooo,” Felix complained, rolling over onto his back and tilting his head back so he could still see Minho, “You have to tell us!

“Do I?” Minho asked, smirking.

“Yes!” Felix whined.

“Met one of his old friends, that’s all.” Minho shrugged and Felix narrowed his eyes.

“That’s not what Jisung said.” Hyunjin tilted his head to the side. His gaze was so much more intense than Minho had realised.

“You said Jisung hadn’t told you anything!” Minho complained, leaning forward and stretching out his hamstrings.

“We lied.” Hyunjin shrugged and Felix throws his sock at him. Hyunjin flicked it away in disgust.

“We did not! Jisung told us nothing! He just said that you guys had mutual friends!”

“We do,” Minho agreed, “Deaun.”

They both stared at him blankly and Minho stared back. How could they not know her? From what he’d heard she’d played a huge part in Jisung’s childhood.

“Who?” Felix asked.

Minho didn’t know how to explain without giving away what could possibly be secrets.

“Uhh… I used to dance with her. I think her dad’s friends with Jisung’s.” Minho seemed to remember Deaun talking about their dads, mainly because he could remember the discomfort on Jisung’s face every time his father was mentioned.

“Is she the girl that Jisung keeps messaging?” Hyunjin asked, leaning forwards, his eyes sharp. He had the glare of a fighter.

“Lia?” Minho asked as if they would know, “Oh no, she’s not Deaun, but yeah I know Lia too.”

The door to the studio opened and their dance teacher stuck her head in. Felix, who had opened his mouth to speak, shut it again and smiled.

“How are you boys going?” She asked, not fully entering, as if she didn’t plan on staying.

“Fine,” Hyunjin seemed unable to smile today.

“Great!” Felix grinned.

The teacher raised her eyebrows at their different reactions. Minho just shrugged.

“Okay, you’ve got another half an hour then I’ll send another group in to give you guys some feedback. We’re under the pump remember, don’t rest for too long.” She shut the door again. None of the boys spoke until they heard her talking to the group down the hall.

“Lia? That’s who Jisung’s been talking to?” Hyunjin asked, not meeting their eyes.

Minho nodded,

“Yeah, she’s one of Deaun’s friends, we met her on Saturday. They got along well; I don’t think they’ve stopped messaging since.”

“She cute?” Felix grinned and Minho blushed.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Felix laughed but Hyunjin barely reacted.

“Do you think he likes her?” Hyunjin mumbled. His voice sounded strained as if he were speaking through a clenched jaw.

“Not yet…” Minho said truthfully, “but I think he easily could. I think she could easily like him too.” His heart clenched with the words even though Minho wished it wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair on either of them for Minho to keep hope the Jisung could like him back.

Felix grinned again and Minho forced himself to smile. Hyunjin’s face stayed blank.

“Jisung’s gonna get himself a girlfriend!” Felix sang out. Neither of them joined in. Jisung was the only one who usually sang along with Felix. Minho had the feeling that, even if he was here, he wouldn’t have joined in with this one.

“He’ll have to introduce us.” Felix reached up to the ceiling before letting his arms drop down again. They slapped down onto the fake wooden floor, the sound echoing around the room.

Hyunjin grumbled something from the other side of the room, but Minho couldn’t tell if he was agreeing or not.

Minho stretched out his shoulders, whimpering slightly when the pain was almost unbearable.

“Are you okay Hyung?” Hyunjin asked, pushing his hair out his face. He looked tired.

“Yep.” Minho snapped and Felix and Hyunjin both flinched, “Just sore, nothing to worry about.”

Neither of them questioned it but Minho could see in their eyes that they weren’t convinced.

“You ready to go again?” Minho sighed and forced himself to stand up. Felix groaned and rolled back onto his stomach before pushing himself up.

“Yeah let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations on 100 million views everybody! Also, I am so excited about the repackaged album, I need to look into theories because I'm rubbish with the storyline, but I think that the Any music video takes place in the same parallel universe as easy. They give me the same vibes. I don't know if that's dumb or if potentially everybody already knew that.  
> Also, Hyunjin's hair makes him look like an elf and I love it.  
> I promise I won't be as long next time!  
> xxx  
> -Babybear


	29. Chapter 29 (She hates the loneliness as much as I do)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had Wow stuck in my head since the unveil track dropped, and nothing will satisfy my need to hear the studio version.

Their song was uploaded at 2.30 and by Friday had gained a considerable amount of attention. They weren’t the most popular group, not by a longshot, but people had begun to stop Jisung in the hallways and congratulate him. It felt like they were getting somewhere.

Maybe they were being hopeful, maybe delusional, but in between exam prep 3racha had started working on more songs than ever. The final stage of the competition, which they were far from, involved having a mini-album of songs. It was likely that the people who got that far would have professional help, but they all agreed that, if they got there, even though they probably wouldn’t, they would do it all by themselves. That meant starting now.

Jisung was finding the schedule tight, but he was no whereas near pressed for time as the other two. Chan and Changbin were both in their final year meaning that the expectations and importance of these half-year exams were significantly higher. Jisung felt like he was cruising in comparison.

He spent most of the week squished on the floor of the tiny recording studio, notebook on his lap and pen resting in between his lips. Chan took the wheelie chair and Changbin sat cross-legged on the table beside the door. Sometimes, when everything became too much, Hyunjin would join them, sitting silently beside Jisung on the ground, his head resting on Jisung’s shoulder. Jisung would run his fingers through Hyunjin’s hair as he murmured half-finished lyrics under his breath.

Most of the time, however, Hyunjin was busy too. The dance evaluation was drawing near and Minho was dragging both him and Felix off to the studio to practice more times than Jisung thought was necessary. Then again, it was Minho’s final year too. He too had been spending a lot of time studying. Most of the time their table in the courtyard stayed empty.

Sometimes Jisung would follow Hyunjin and Felix to the dance studios and try and watch them practice. He was allowed to stay there for the warmup but as soon as I See began to play Minho kicked him out. It didn’t feel mean though. He felt welcome there, but the dance was a secret, a surprise. The others hadn’t been allowed to see it either.

Jeongin had started taking turns tagging along with them. Spending a significant amount of time sitting beside Chan at the mixing table and silently observing him. Jisung felt sorry for him. He didn’t have any exams this year and therefore didn’t need anywhere near the amount of study time the rest of them did. He spent a lot of the time sitting with them in the library scrolling through his phone as they poured over books. Even Jisung, who wasn’t particularly studious, hadn’t had the time to keep him company.  
Jisung nibbed the end of his pen, his red headphones covering his ears and the current track he was writing for playing softly through them. It was a slower one, more his style, but he was still struggling. He felt drained of ideas.

Jisung’s phone screen lit up with a notification. Changbin struggled to hand it over due to how squashed they were in the tiny booth. The limited room used to make Jisung feel claustrophobic but now it just felt right. He stared at the message, then placed it face down on the table without replying.

Chan looked over at him curiously but didn’t say anything. Jisung tries to smile at him, but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Suddenly the studio felt much too small again. He shifted awkwardly, his skin felt sticky and hot. Both the other boys were looking at him. Changbin looked curious and Chan looked worried. He was trying to catch Jisung’s eye, but he kept looking directly forward on the notebook in front of him.

_10.35: Your dad’s been called into the second office, he’s catching the train tonight, probably will be gone before you get there._

He’d only just gotten back from America, and he already had to travel across the country. Jisung sighed and slapped his book shut.

“I’m going on a walk.”

He grabbed his phone back off the desk and opened the door. Neither of the older boys tried to stop him.

The halls were empty, everybody else having gone home. Jisung wandered down, running his hand across the face of the lockers.

He couldn’t explain to himself why he was so bothered by his dad leaving so much. He had been annoyed to have him home and was annoyed again to have him go again.

He used to offer to bring Jisung with him, just like how Tommy went along with his dad. Jisung had gone a couple of times when he was younger, but America scared him too much and he had never had any desire to work in the same industry as his father. Jisung didn’t think that Tommy had either, but Tommy always seemed to enjoy the trips away more than Jisung did. He kept on saying yes after Jisung stopped.

Maybe Tommy was just a better son.

Jisung wouldn’t blame his father for wanting Tommy instead of Jisung. Tommy was perfect, Jisung was… Jisung was not.

Almost out of habit, he found himself wandering towards the dance studio. None of his friends had mentioned staying behind tonight but he could hear music and it was worth checking.

The first studio was empty, Jisung tried to open the door to turn off the lights but it was locked. A group of girls were sat on the floor in the second one, huddled around a phone and wearing skin-tight and incredibly revealing exercise clothes. One with blue dyed hair looked up and locked eyes with him. She gasped, though Jisung couldn’t hear it through the door, and brought her arms up to cover her chest. Jisung blushed and bowed his head in apology, stepping back from the door, stumbling with his hurry.

He was incredibly flustered as he checked the final room. The lights weren’t on and Jisung almost didn’t walk the entire way down the hall. Just before he turned around there was a loud thump from inside the room followed by an incredibly familiar voice, complaining to himself.

_Hyunjin._

“Why are you in the dark?” Jisung pushed open the door, letting the light from the hallway pour into the room. Hyunjin was sprawled on his back on the floor and stared blankly at Jisung before pulling out his headphones.

Jisung repeated himself as Hyunjin sat up.

“It’s easier when I can’t see myself.” Hyunjin shrugged and Jisung came to sit beside him, sighing loudly.

“Everything okay?”

Jisung flopped onto his back,

“Yeah.”

Hyunjin lay back down, reaching over to pet Jisung’s hair.

“Are you okay?”

Jisung tilted his head to the side, Hyunjin was smiling softly at him, his eyes warm and understanding. Jisung leant into his touch, his eyes fluttering shut. Hyunjin knew him so well.

“Not really.” Tears suddenly built in his eyes. Jisung moved to turn his head away but stopped with the gentle touch of Hyunjin’s hand. Hyunjin softly whipped the tears from under his eyes and traced the skin of Jisung’s face with his thumb.

“Can I do anything to help,” Hyunjin asked, his hand returning to patting Jisung’s hair.

“Be there if I cry.” Jisung laughed weakly, quoting Hyunjin.

Hyunjin didn’t laugh,

“Of course.”

They lay there for a bit. The darkness surrounding them was soothing.

“Why is it easier to have the lights off?”’ Jisung finally asked his voice a little more stable.

Hyunjin shrugged but there was a tenseness in his face,

“Minho likes to dance with his eyes closed, I thought I would try it. I feel like I’m the only one in the world.”

“And it’s easier?” Jisung asked. Hyunjin’s hand had dropped from his hair and Jisung held it lightly.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin breathed, “It’s easier.”

They fell silent again. Jisung shifted around so his head was resting on Hyunjin’s shoulder.

“Are the others gonna come?” Jisung asked, lifting his head up so Hyunjin could adjust his position.

“Not today.” Hyunjin murmured, patting his shoulder to indicate that Jisung could lean on him again.

“Oh good, Minho’s not gonna kick me out.” Jisung joked dropping his head back down. Hyunjin hit his arm.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise. I would kick you out too.”

“Noooo,” Jisung pouted, “but you love me!”

Hyunjin’s hand froze in his hair for a moment, before continuing to stroke it.

“Not enough to go against Minho.” Hyunjin joked.

Jisung turned his head so that Hyunjin could see his frown. Hyunjin ignored him.

“Are Chan and Changbin still here?”

Jisung puffed out his cheeks,

“Yeah, I walked out.”

Hyunjin frowned too,

“What did they do?” He sounded angry.

“Nothing, nothing,” Jisung assured, “They didn’t do anything.”

“Good,” Hyunjin laughed again, “I didn’t want to take my chances in a physical fight against Changbin.”

Jisung laughed too.

“Do you want to go?” Hyunjin asked. He had started to pet Jisung’s hair again.

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to go home,” his voice broke, “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to.” Tears started to fall uncontrollably down his face again.

“Shhhhh, shhh, shhh,” Hyunjin cooed, pulling Jisung against his chest and into a tight hug. Jisung pushed his face into Hyunjin shoulder, his tears rubbing off onto Hyunjin’s shirt.

“I can’t go home. It’s so lonely,” Jisung pulled Hyunjin closer, the pressure of his shoulder painful and comforting against his face, “I hate it. I hate they’re always gone.”

“Is your dad leaving again?”

Jisung nodded against his shoulder.

“He didn’t even tell me he was going, Mum had to.”

“That fucking sucks.” Hyunjin nuzzled his face against the top of Jisung’s head, breathing in the scent of his hair, “Do you want to come over to mine?”

Jisung shook his head.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin kissed the top of his head, “My parents wouldn’t care, they would be happy to have you there.”

Jisung pulled back in the hug a little,

“I can’t have Mum coming home to the emptiness either. She hates the loneliness as much as I do.”

As much as Jisung hated the empty house, his mum hated it more. Jisung was usually asleep by the time she came home; the apartment was always deadly quiet for her. Sometimes Jisung would wake up to his mum curled up on his bedroom floor after coming into his room late at night, just to feel his presence and remind herself that she wasn’t alone. Jisung could never be sure how often she did it. How many nights had she come into his room just to listen to his breathing, trying to pretend, for a moment, that everything was okay? Jisung only caught her on the days where she was too exhausted to pull herself away.

“I can’t leave her too.”

Hyunjin rubbed the back of Jisung’s neck, running his fingers through the soft baby hairs at the bottom of his head.

“Do you want me to come to yours?”

“Please,” Jisung responded without thinking. He sounded so desperate; he was desperate.

“I’ll ask the others to come too.” Hyunjin didn’t need to say who.

It was likely that Felix and Seungmin were busy, Seungmin at least. He was probably helping out at the restaurant; Felix was probably playing video games, but Jisung knew that would drop anything for an emotional support sleepover. Jisung would, and had, done the same for them countless times.

“Come on,” Hyunjin said, getting to his feet and pulling Jisung up with him, “let’s go home, we’ll get snacks on the way.”

Jisung allowed himself to be carried over to the door. Hyunjin was stronger than he looked, but he definitely wouldn’t be able to hold Jisung’s weight the entire way to the apartment. Hyunjin multitasked, locking up the studio, messaging the others and carrying Jisung all at once as they left. Just for a moment, Jisung basked in the warmth of being cared for, before excepting his own weight and allowing Hyunjin easier mobility.

“I need to get my stuff from the recording studio.” Jisung rubbed his eyes, hoping it didn’t look obvious he had been crying.

Hyunjin pulled his hands away from his eyes,

“Don’t rub them, you’ll just irritate them more. We can grab it on the way out.” He offered Jisung his hand and Jisung didn’t hesitate to accept it.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung started as he was led down the hall towards the music rooms.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiled back at him over his shoulder.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to do this.”

Hyunjin’s smile was so unbelievably fond,

“You said it yourself, I love you. I could never see you sad.”

Jisung almost started crying again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hot water tank broke last night and the entire living room ceiling was dripping water. It was like it was raining inside. I haven't been in the attic yet to check the damage there yet, but hopefully, nothing's ruined. My dad has fixed it today which is great but I hope our ceiling doesn't get all mouldy. 
> 
> I also really want to watch the movie Midsommar because every photo of it looks beautiful and it seems like a stunning movie, but I'm also terrified to. I haven't really watched any horror movies before so I'm a bit hesitant to try. If anyone has, please tell me if it is any good.
> 
> I have to go now because my physics assignment is due tomorrow and I have a lot to do left.


	30. Chapter 30 (She’s sooo far out your league Jisung)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> How is everybody going? It's been a hot minute! Sooooo much has happened since I last updated, and I definitely can't remember everything I wanted to comment on. Either way, I'm very proud of SKZ and stay for how successful they've been this comeback. Also, happy birthday to Jisung, Felix, and Seungmin. I know it been a bit since their birthdays have passed but I still want to wish them this. Also, happy birthday to Chan for Saturday!
> 
> I also wanted to talk about the changes I made. Mostly Chan and Changbin took WJ role in this story. Chan's previous characterisation fit well with the new parts I was giving him, so his character is still the same, however, Changbin has taken a slightly different role. Originally, he was slightly more carefree, more of the distract rather than interview type. From now on he will take more of a guiding and caring role, but his characterisation might feel slightly off :(. Other than that I just fixed some of the old grammar and spelling mistakes and re-did some of the formatting. 
> 
> I wanted to keep the letter that I wrote despite deleting the chapter, just so people who might have missed it or who are new to the story can understand. I have put it in the endnotes if you still want to read it. 
> 
> Thank you for waiting, I really appreciate the support I received in this. 
> 
> -Babybear

Seungmin and Felix were already in the apartment by the time Hyunjin and Jisung arrived. They had used Seungmin’s spare key to let themselves in and were in the middle of dragging the spare mattress into the living room. The glass coffee table had already been pushed out of the way to make room for the newly brought in furniture.

“Your rooms a mess Jisung,” Seungmin said, not bothering to greet him. Felix waved with his free hand, using his hip and the other hand to support the mattress.

“It’s always a mess, why are you surprised?” Hyunjin joked before Jisung got a chance to defend himself.

Jisung pouted and held the bag of snacks against his chest, wrapping his arms around it protectively.

“No snacks for you then!”

“I paid for those!” Hyunjin cried, grabbing at his arm, and attempting to pry his fingers from the bag. Jisung shook his head and tightened this grip, trying not to laugh as Hyunjin changed tactics and began to poke at his ribs instead.

Felix and Seungmin simultaneously dropped the bed and swooped in to join Hyunjin in attacking Jisung. The mattress fell on the floor with a heavy thump. Jisung needed to remember to apologise to the downstairs neighbours tomorrow. His knees almost immediately gave in with them all tickling him and Jisung collapsed to the ground, curled around the bag, using his entire body to protect it.

“Give us the food Jisung.” Seungmin threatened, kneeling down so his face was level with Jisung’s.

“Over my dead body,” Jisung growled, pretending to spit in Seungmin’s face.

Seungmin picked up the idea pretty quickly and imitated whipping the imaginary spit from his cheek.

“This means war,” Seungmin tilted his head to the side, “you up for that?”

“Bring it on,” Jisung said cockily as if he had a chance of winning.

“So be it.” Seungmin nodded at Hyunjin and suddenly Jisung’s body was hoisted up into the air. His grip on the bag loosened in surprise, but he regained his grasp before anyone could take advantage of it.

“Put me down!” Jisung cried, squirming around, purposely making Hyunjin’s job more difficult.

Hyunjin stopped walking, Jisung stared at his shoes.

“If you say so.”

“Wait!” Jisung cried, but it was already too late. Felix howled with laughter as Hyunjin practically threw, Jisung onto the mattress. He body flopped awkwardly as he twisted mid-air to avoid landing on his face. Before Jisung had really got the chance to register what had happened, Felix snatched the bag from his hands and sat on his chest.

Jisung groaned with Felix’s weight and with the loss of his snacks.

“You break into my house, insult my room, attack me and steal my food.” Jisung pouted and Felix pinched his cheeks but didn’t move to get off him.

“I’m sacrificing study time for this!” Seungmin threatened but giggled non the less and came to lay down on the mattress too. Felix ripped open the bag of chips and held it out for Seungmin and Hyunjin to grab handfuls of but keeping it out of Jisung’s reach. Jisung whined and Hyunjin popped a chip into his mouth.

“Has Chan asked you about going away yet?” Felix asked, climbing off of Jisung and squeezing between him and Seungmin to cuddle up against his side.

“What?” Hyunjin joined them on the mattress.

“Oh yeah,” Jisung wriggled into Hyunjin’s body, “He mentioned it the other day, didn’t realise he was being serious though.”

“What are you two talking about?” Seungmin poked Felix’s ribs and Felix swatted his hand away.

“Chan’s parents rent this holiday house on the coast each year.” Felix explained, “They usually come over Christmas, but Chan seemed to think that they wouldn’t be able to make it this year.”

Jisung yawned and stretched out his arms,

“They’ve already paid for it, so if they don’t end up coming, he suggested us all going instead.”

“Really?” Hyunjin asked. The tip of his nose was cold on Jisung’s neck.

Jisung shrugged,

“Maybe. He’s brought Changbin with him before.”

“Oh yeah,” Hyunjin lifted his head, “I remember Changbin complaining that Chan’s brother made them watch horror films.”

Jisung grinned. He had heard the story too.

Seungmin eyes lit up.

“No, no, no,” Felix begged, holding one of Seungmin’s hands between his own, but it was already too late.

“We should watch a horror film!” Seungmin grinned and Felix groaned. Hyunjin and Jisung made eye contact and Hyunjin smirked. They were both terrible when it came to scary films, bur Felix was so much worse. It was entertaining watching him hide under the blankets, entertaining enough to distract them from how scared they were themselves.

“Yeah, I like that idea,” Hyunjin agreed and Felix whined again.

“You guys are so mean.”

Jisung’s phone buzzed in his pocket. Hyunjin pulled it out for him and handed it over.

_6.30: I’ve just been at Deaun’s, are you home?_

“Who is it?” Hyunjin asked while Seungmin and Felix bickered over film choices.

“Lia,” Jisung replied as he typed out a response.

_6.31: Yeah, I’m home, having a movie night_

“Of course it is,” Felix rolled his eyes playfully and Jisung stuck out his tongue.

“Say hi from us,” Seungmin added.

_6.31: My friends say hi by the way_

_6.32: Hi Jisung’s friends xx_

“She says hi back,” Jisung said and Felix cheered.

“Are you ever going to introduce us?” Seungmin asked grabbing another handful of the chips. Jisung shrugged.  
  
 _6.33: I was going to ask if you wanted to meet up, but I don’t want to disrupt your movie night :)_

Felix read the text aloud over his shoulder.

“You should invite her” Seungmin suggested.

Jisung stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t know if he was ready for his worlds to collide.

“Do you want that?”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, “Do we really want to see them flirt in person, over text is enough.” He seemed to be teasing but there was something undeniably bitter in the tone of his voice.

“We’re not flirting!” Jisung hit Hyunjin’s chest lightly.

“Sure, you’re not,” Seungmin said sarcastically and Jisung reached over Felix to hit him too.

“Are you gonna invite her or what?”

“You just want an excuse to get out of watching a scary movie!”

Jisung didn’t have a chance to answer before his phone was snatched out of his hands by Felix,

_6.35: Hi! This is Felix!!!! I’m Jisung’s BFF! You should come to his and watch the movie with us!!!!!!_

_6.35: Hi Felix! Are you sure you’re okay with that Jisung?_

Jisung ripped his phone back out of Felix’s grasp.

_6.35: That’s fine, they’re pretty desperate to meet you_

_6.36: Great! I’ve been looking forward to meeting them too, you talk about them a lot._

_6.36: Do you want me to come straight to yours or go out for food first? Have you eaten yet?_

Jisung looked around the apartment as the others read the message. He wouldn’t consider it to be too messy, but it was no-where near as clean as Deaun’s house. Seungmin followed his gaze.

“Yeah, I think out is probably best. Do you even have any food here?”

Jisung shook his head,

“Not really, that’s why we went shopping before.” He gestured to the chips and Seungmin snickered.

“I should have known, the only food you ever have here is the stuff I bring you.”

Jisung pouted, but didn’t argue, they all knew that Seungmin was right.

_6.37: Out sounds good, any place specifically?_

_6.37: Hmm, 12th Street?_

_6.37: They have good cheesecake_

“Cheesecake?” Felix snorted, “You two must be soulmates.”

Jisung ignored him.

“Twelfth Street…” Seungmin hummed, “She has good taste.” Seungmin took after his parents in judging a person by where they chose to eat.

“That’s not far from here.” Hyunjin furrowed his brow trying to recall the location.

Jisung shook his head,

“Not far, walking distance.”

_6.39: Good cheesecake? I’m sold_

_6.39: Hahaha, I knew you would be_

_6.39: I can be there in 10, how about you?_

_6.40: We’ll probably be a bit longer, have to get changed still_

_6.40: No problem, I’ll go early and get a table, how many?_

_6.40: 5? Unless you want to bring anyone?_

_6.40: 5 is good, I was going to ask Deaun, but she’s seeing Tommy tonight_

“Who’s Deaun?” Seungmin asked before Jisung had a chance to hide the message.

“Deaun…” Felix repeated, “She sounds familiar…”

“Isn’t she the one that Minho knows?” Hyunjin tilted his head to the side and Felix nodded excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s right!”

Jisung blushed and pulled his school shirt up over his nose.

“Who's Tommy?” Felix asked.

Jisung’s heart raced, panic brewing inside his veins.

“Deaun’s boyfriend…” he murmured trying not to let his voice crack.

“You know so many people,” Felix grumbled and Jisung silently let out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t pushing it any further.

“Tommy?” Hyunjin mumbled to himself as he sat up. He didn’t push it either, but the extra attention he had given the name worried Jisung slightly.

Jisung turned on the phone again.

_6.42: Plan! See you in 30 :D_

“Jisssunngggg,” Felix whined, “use proper emojis, you old man”

“Hey!” Jisung pouted, “I like my smiley face.”

“Do you know where they are? Do you need help finding them?” Felix asked in mock worry. Jisung hit him.

“Shut it!”

Felix cried with laughter and hit Jisung back.

It took just over twenty minutes for them to finally leave the house. Felix refused to let Jisung leave wearing his usual hoodies because he ‘simply would just make a bad impression’ and dragged Jisung into his room to try the majority of his clothes again. Jisung grumbled about it the whole time but allowed Felix to boss him around and his friends to criticise his fashion taste. Eventually, Felix seemed satisfied, though he complained that Jisung needed better clothes if he was expected to dress him well.

Seungmin tilted his head at the final outfit and filled his cheeks with air,

“You look cute. In a nerdy sort of way.”

Hyunjin hummed in agreement,

“You should wear your glasses more often.”

Jisung couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. He pulled at the collar of his sweater and Felix cooed at him.

“You’re so adorable when you’re nervous.”

Lia was already there when they arrived. She was sitting at one of the tables, absentmindedly sipping lemonade and scrolling through her phone, the ice in her drink had already melted and Jisung hoped they hadn’t kept her waiting too long.

“Is that her?” Felix whispered and Jisung nodded.

Seungmin whistled under his breath,

“She’s sooo far out your league Jisung.”

Felix snickered as Jisung glared at him. Hyunjin rolled his eyes.

“Jisung!” Lia called, having finally looked up from her phone, and noticing their presence.

“Lia!” Jisung grinned and lead the group over to the table. Lia stood up, always polite, and hugged Jisung in greeting.

“I hope we didn’t keep you too long.” Jisung started but Lia cut him off with a casual wave of her hand.

“It’s no problem, it was a last-minute thing, it would be incredibly rude for me to expect you to be available when I want.”

Out the corner of his eye, Jisung could see Seungmin turn to Felix and raise his eyebrows. Jisung ignored him and hoped that Lia hadn’t seen.

“Are you gonna introduce us?” Hyunjin asked playfully and bumped Jisung with his hip. He was putting on that voice, the one he used with strangers, the one slightly lower and slower than his real one. It was the voice always spoken through a frozen smile and alongside a forced charm. Jisung bumped him back.

_Relax…_

“Of course! Everybody this is Lia, Lia this is Felix, Seungmin and Hyunjin.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Lia smiled and nodded at them individually.

Jisung let them more properly introduce themselves and sat down on at the table, tucking his knees up to his chest. Hyunjin came to sit beside him.

“She’s pretty,” Hyunjin whispered, and Jisung forced a smile.

“I know.”

“I was expecting you to have brought Minho along Jisung,” Lia said, also sitting down. Felix and Seungmin followed her lead and took a chair each. The metal feet screeched loudly on the wooden floorboards.

Jisung laughed nervously and picked at the plastic covering of the table. It was starting to chip away around the corner and the yellowing varnish flaked off under his fingernails.

“It was just us tonight…” He didn’t finish his sentence, just shrugged and smiled sheepishly.

“Minho has dance tonight,” Hyunjin added casually, flicking through the drinks menu. His fingers turned the pages, but his eyes didn’t scan the options.

“That’s too bad,” Lia hummed as Felix and Seungmin shot confused glares and Jisung, “I wanted to talk to him.”

“I pass a message on.” Jisung offered, but Lia shook her head.

“I’ll just ring.”

“Is everything okay?” Hyunjin asked, already reading into her hesitant expression and uncertain tone. He had always been the most observant when it came to emotions.

“Everything is fine,” Lia smiled, but her mouth was too tight, and her eyes didn’t change, “I just need to check something with him.

Everything probably wasn’t fine.

Jisung didn’t push it. Either Lia or Minho would explain later, and if they didn’t it was none of his business. It felt like it probably should be his business though.

“So…” Felix leant forward over the table and rested his head in his hands, “How did you and Jisung meet?”

It sounded like the sort of question that someone would ask a dating or married couple. Jisung didn’t like how his face flushed at the thought.

Lia laughed,

“We met at a party.”

Jisung looked up sharply from his napkin, which he had been fiddling with.

“Did we?!”

Lia laughed again,

“Yeah, I played like three rounds of _Just Dance_ with you.”

“Oh, Jisung’s terrible at _Just Dance_ ,” Felix interrupted, Jisung glared at him.

“I know,” Lia giggled, “He didn’t win a single game.”

“I won one!” Jisung whined and Lia pinched his cheek.

“That’s because they were going easy on you.”

Jisung pouted and leant back in his chair,

“I can’t believe that was you.”  
  
Lia shrugged,

“You were pretty drunk, and my hair was still dark then.”

Jisung smirked,

“Were you offended I didn’t remember you?” He asked innocently, tipping his head to the side and widening his eyes.

Lia blushed lightly,

“Maybe a little.”

Jisung cooed and went to tickle under her chin but Lia playfully hit his hand away.

“Don’t act as you paid me _any_ attention that night!”

“W-what do you mean?” Jisung stuttered looking around. Hyunjin raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Felix grinned as if he couldn’t wait to watch the drama in front of him unfold.

“I mean you hardly talked to me!” Lia exclaimed and Felix gasped, “We were there for like four hours and I don’t think I saw you talk to anyone other than Minho the whole night!”

“Minho?” Seungmin asked slowly.

“Yep!” Lia responded, either not noticing the hesitation or electing to ignore it, “They were on top each other the entire time. I don’t think I could have separated them if I tried.”

Jisung blushed and hid his burning face in the menu.

“How long ago was this…?” Hyunjin asked after a moment of silence. Jisung blushed harder.

“A month or so…” Jisung mumbled, still covering his face.

“Two weeks,” Lia corrected absentmindedly and Jisung stared at her.

“Two weeks…” Jisung repeated not really believing it.

“Yeah,” Lia stared back, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “The party was on the Saturday then I met you and Minho for lunch Saturday the next week.”

“Has it only been that long,” Jisung murmured, mostly to himself. A lot had happened since then.

“Two weeks!” Felix mouthed over the table, then raised his eyebrows.

They were going to question him about this later, Jisung already knew.

Seungmin was right when saying that Deaun had good taste in places to eat. The food was good, the prices reasonable and the environment comfortable. His friends quickly opened up to Lia, and she quickly dropped her composed persona until the noise from their table filled the entire restaurant. The early awkwardness was chipped away like the varnish under Jisung’s nails until all that was left was the joy of new friendships.

She got along with each of the boys so effortlessly, that she left Jisung in awe slightly. Felix immediately liked her, but Felix was always the quickest out of them to warm up to new people and got along well with everyone really. He sat on Lia’s right the entire night, bombarding her with constant chatter, which Lia seemed eager to respond too. Felix even invited her to come watch their dance performance on Friday, which Lia agreed to excitedly, promising that she would come. Seungmin surprisingly had a lot of overlapping interests with her and was thrilled to hear that she cared somewhat for baseball. That combined with her taste in restaurants solidified Seungmin’s opinion her as a good one. She also seemed to understand his sarcastic sense of humour which was always a plus. Hyunjin was a bit different. Out of all of them, he was the one who took the longest to come out of his shell with new people. Maybe Lia could sense it, or maybe she was just naturally good with people, but she seemed to put extra effort into talking to Hyunjin until he was comfortable with her.

It was weird the way they were interacting. Jisung would see Hyunjin laughing at something she said, then catching himself and stopping, almost like he was trying to force himself not to get along with her. Jisung made a mental note to ask him about it when they were alone.

Jisung and Lia shared cheesecake again, splitting three slices pieces between them and eating them easily. Hyunjin stared at them, with their cheeks stuffed, and shook his head in disdain. Neither Lia nor Jisung could control themselves when they burst out laughing, falling in on each other. Lia buried her face in Jisung shoulder, losing it against his shirt. It was the sort of environment where laughter was contagious and soon the whole group was uncontrollably giggling into their deserts. Lia gripped onto Jisung’s wrist and grinned up at him. Jisung couldn’t help but grin back. There was something so easy about spending time with Lia.

They parted ways well into the night after Lia had secretly paid for the meal, refusing to let any of them pitch in. Jisung stayed by Lia’s side until the taxi to take her home had arrived and even then Jisung made her promise to message him when she got home.

“If you don’t message within half an hour, I’m gonna assume you’ve been kidnapped,” Jisung warned as he helped her into the back seat of the car.

“Don’t worry,” Lia laughed and opened the window so Jisung could shut the door, “I’ll be fine.”

“BYE LIA!” Felix screamed from the sidewalk where the rest of them were waiting for Jisung, “I’LL SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!”

“Bye Lix!” She called, waving thought the open window, “See you then!” She turned to Jisung, “Are you sure you’ll be fine walking?”

Jisung shrugged,

“It’s not far, to close to bother with ordering a taxi.”

The driver cleared this throat.

“I should probably let you go,” Jisung leant forwards and hugged her through the window, “See you around.”

“Bye Jisung,” she said into the hug before letting him go, “Bye everyone!”

There was a chorus of ‘ _byes_ ’ as the rest of the boys waved from the sidewalk. Jisung stepped back from the car and the driver started the engine.

“I forgot to mention,” Lia called out the window as the car started to pull away, “I’m having a birthday/ end of exam type celebration in the holidays, you should all come.” Her voice started to fade as the car got farther away, but the boys still heard. Jisung held up his hand in a thumbs-up position to show that he’d heard and watched the taxi disappear in amongst the cars.

“Yeah,” Seungmin nodded as Jisung came back onto the path and towards the others, “definitely out of your league.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The letter I wrote regarding the WJ accusations and the actions I was going to take in response. 9/9/2020)
> 
> Hello everybody,
> 
> Unfortunately, this is not a new chapter. 
> 
> I think it is important for me, as a Stay and as a creator to address the current situation and how I am going to react to it. 
> 
> I will be completely transparent in the fact that I don’t know all the evidence, to or against Woojin. I have done my best to research but I have been wary of the miscommunication that language barriers can cause, bias and unreliable evidence. 
> 
> Currently, I will take a somewhat neutral stand on the issue. I am open to new evidence and will not have an unchanging opinion. However, saying that, I will stand by the victim and will not be supporting Woojin unless indisputable evidence has been provided that proves his innocents. 
> 
> Because of this, I no longer think I will feel comfortable including his character in my story. I hold the strong opinion that my characters do not represent the actual person. They are based on them and may borrow aspects of their personality; however, they are still a fictional character. Despite this, I feel uncomfortable painting Woojin in a positive light with the heavy accusations that have been placed against him. I feel like it would be disrespectful to the victim and to others who have been through similar situations.
> 
> I have decided that the best path of action for me to take is to stop writing the story for a couple of months and use that time to edit him out. This has been an incredibly hard decision for me to make, but ultimately, I think it is for the best. 
> 
> My support for Stray Kids will not lessen. I have no doubt that this will affect them too, but Woojin is no longer part of the group and we as fans should do our best to limit the effect of this situation. Stray Kids do not deserve this, and I will continue to support them. 
> 
> I know that not everyone will be happy with my choices and I understand that, but ultimately this is the path I have decided to take. This is a difficult situation to be in and my heart goes out to everybody who is struggling. Please do not blame yourself or hate on others for supporting him. A lot of people will struggle to let him go and we should be patient and supportive with them. It can be hard to admit to yourself that someone you looked up to is not as perfect as the image of them you have created in your head. I am lucky as I only became a Stay a couple of months before Woojin left and hadn’t built up the emotional connection that I currently have with the members. I know that I would be a complete mess if this situation was occurring to any of the members, so I can sympathise with his fans who are finding this time the most difficult.
> 
> If Woojin is proved innocent he will regain my support, but until then I will not be participating as a fan.
> 
> I will most likely delete this chapter once I am finished with the editing, as I want my story to be a safe place for Stays, more like an escape, and I don’t feel like having this letter in there is the best idea in the future. However, this is not a situation that can be ignored and that is important to acknowledge. 
> 
> Please continue to support Stray Kids, and please do not bring this up in lives, they don’t deserve that. I know it is hard to feel excited for their comeback with this sitting at the back of our minds, but I hope that we as fans can do our best to support them. 
> 
> Thank you to all my readers who will be willing to wait while I fix this issue. I hope you understand my reasoning and will continue to support my writing.
> 
> -Babybear


	31. Chapter 31(It sounds a little like a date)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little late, but unfortunately, that's how it's gonna be for a little bit. The next six weeks is school work cram time and then I'm gonna be going away. Unfortunately, that's just how it's going to be... Either way, enjoy!

Jisung stared at his phone, the screen blank, but the memory of the call keeping him frozen and unable to look away. He hated no matter how familiar the instant was he still was so affected by it. He hated that his dad sounded apologetic but still left and he hated that he always said it was okay.

_“A sudden opportunity has opened up for us to possibly open a new branch in London.”_

Jisung hated that his dad talked to him like it was all business over the phone and then like he was fourteen again in person.

_“I know I promised that I would be home for a while,”_

Jisung never believed him anymore anyway,

_“but this is an opportunity we can’t afford to give up. I know I don’t need to remind you about how success takes sacrifice.”_

Jisung’s dad had been sacrificing himself in the name of success for Jisung’s entire childhood.

_“When are you going?”_

It was all that Jisung was able to ask. His voice came out unfeeling and empty.

_“Saturday. I’ll come back home on Friday to pack, hopefully, we can spend time together then.”_

_“What? You’re not even coming home in between?”_

_“Jisung!”_ His dad had scolded and Jisung’s grip on the phone had tightened, _“You know I would if I could.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

Jisung hated that he was the one apologising.

_“Anyway, I’ll be over there for a couple of months, I’ll be able to visit home often though.”_

_“A couple of months?”_ Jisung had repeated, his anger not showing in the almost bored tone in his voice.

_“Maybe you’ll be able to come over too. Apparently, the house and area are nice. You’ll be able to make some friends and practise your English.”_

Jisung rolled his eyes.

_“Take care of your mum for me. She always overworks herself, don’t make her come home and work more.”_

_“I always care for her.”_

His dad had hung up after an uncomfortably long silence and a rushed goodbye. Jisung stayed frozen, sitting on his bed. Over the phone, it might have sounded like he hadn’t cared, but a couple of months was a long time, and Jisung knew from experience that these sorts of things were usually underestimated. His dad was likely going to be gone for a lot longer.

He huffed childishly and angrily and pulled tightly on the laces of his sneakers.

It wasn’t fair.

His phone buzzed again and Jisung almost ignored it. His dad often messaged after a call, saying all the things he realised that Jisung wanted to hear, all the things he forgot to consider while actually talking.

Jisung hated reading texts that were so close to being lies. He didn’t think he had ever replied to one.

_8.03: I’m soooooooooooo nervous!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

Felix.

It wasn’t his dad.

_8.05: I can imagine :0_

Jisung put the face there just to annoy him.

His phone buzzed again. It was Hyunjin this time.

_8.07: I think I’m gonna throw up_

_8.07: oh no! I know you’ll be fantastic_

_8.08: It doesn’t feel like it_

_8.08: Hyunjin, you’re all amazing, there is no way you’ll do badly_

_8.09: I can come and see you before if you think that will help?_

_8.09: Please_

The situation with his dad immediately left his mind, replaced with worry and compassion for his friends. The day had finally rolled around, the day that had been looming. As far as Jisung could tell the dance evaluations were important, very important. In music the evaluation didn’t count for much, there were plenty of other assignments that the grade for one didn’t have too much of an effect. Dance was different. The complete evaluation, which all took place within the same week, the majority on the same day, accounted for over half of the entire semester grade. It was a big deal; no wonder his friends were terrified.

Jisung thought of Minho before he could stop himself. He wondered if he was nervous too, or if his life had numbed him to the little things like this. Something was endearing about the image of Minho, who had been through so much and who was indifferent, being overcome with nerves due to something as innocent as dance.

Jisung caught himself smiling at the idea and forced it out his mind.

“Are you ready?” Felix asked, breathless with nerves and whipping the palms of his hands on his silky shirt. Minho tried not to cringe at the damp stains it left of the expensive fabric.

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin shivered beside Minho on the bench. He took a sip of water even though he had taken one only moment before.

“We’re ready,” Minho said firmly, and the younger boys turned to look at him. Their eyes were so wide and innocent with the nerves, and Minho suddenly realised how much of a leader he had become for them over the term. Neither of them had ever done dance exams before; Minho had been doing them his whole life.

“I’m so nervous,” Felix whined and tucked his knees up to his chest.

Minho rubbed the back of his neck fondly.

“Don’t worry, being nervous is good, it means you care about doing well.”

Felix smiled back at him weakly.

Minho knew the danger of not being nervous. Going into fights without fear had always been his greatest strengths and weakness. He went into them not caring the final condition his body would end up in and therefore was willing to take risks that he probably shouldn’t.

Being nervous was a good thing.

Minho tapped the bench by his thigh.

“How much longer do you think we have?” Hyunjin asked quietly looking up and down the hallway. The other group, a group of girls, looked over and shrugged. The music from the studio behind them continued to play.

“We’re the next group, right?” Felix asked and one of the girls nodded, “I don’t think I can wait any longer!” he whined and stuck out his bottom lip.

“Jisung’s late,” Hyunjin grumbled, taking another sip of water, “He said he would be here to wish us luck.”

Minho hummed sympathetically,

“Don’t be too upset, he probably just couldn’t get out of class,” he smiled slightly, trying not to show that he was disappointed too.

The music inside the studio stopped and both groups in the hall fell silent.

“How do you think they did?” one of the girls asked, nervously picking at her leggings.

“Good, hopefully,” Felix mumbled.

Minho didn’t bother responding.

“Are you both still warm?” he turned to Hyunjin and Felix. It had only been a couple of minutes since they had finished their hallway warm-up, but Minho was in charge of their health and he didn’t want one of them pulling a muscle.

Felix swung his arms in a circle and reached out to touch his toes. Hyunjin nodded but didn’t stretch again as Felix had. Minho didn’t either.

The door opened and the group who had just been performing stumbled out, sweating and pale with nerves.

“How did you go?” Felix asked, fiddling with his drink bottle.

The tallest boy in the group shrugged, smiling slightly sheepishly,

“No clue, Miss is unreadable when she wants,” he laughed nervously and ran his hand through his hair.

“You guys are good though,” Minho said, rising from his seat on the bench, “and you’ve been practising hard, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

The boy stared at him as Minho tried to keep the smile on his face.

_What?_

“Thanks,” the boy stuttered, and grinned down at the floor, the tips of his ears turning pink.

It was Minho’s turn to stare.

“I didn’t expect you to compliment us,” the boy admitted shyly, looking up from the floor.

Minho sighed internally, sometimes he forgot that people weren’t used to, or didn’t expect him to be nice.

Minho shrugged,

“Take it or leave it, I’m not saying it again.”

The boy didn’t have the opportunity to answer as the door opened and their dance teacher called them in. Based on the quick flash of fear and embarrassment in his eyes, Minho didn’t think that he would have responded even if he had the time.

“Good luck.”

Minho nodded at him as he held the door open for Felix and Hyunjin. There was a moment where the boy looked hopeful, but Minho didn’t say thank you.

“He thinks you’re cute,” Felix whispered as Minho shut the door, and Hyunjin plugged his phone into the speaker system.

Minho turned to him sharply,

“What?”

Felix laughed at him,

“Why are you so surprised?”

_If he thinks I’m cute, why has he never talked to me before? Is he like those girls who like the idea of fixing someone broken? Does he think I’m broken?_

Minho scrunched up his nose. He didn’t understand how he felt about that, and he didn’t know how he should.

Felix spat out his gum in the bin beside the door. Minho hadn’t realised that he had been chewing it. Hyunjin finished with the music and came over to stand beside them in the centre of the room. Minho stood in the middle, his back facing towards the mirror, looking towards the teacher. She tapped the end of the pen against her clipboard. She was here for business. The second evaluator, a man who Minho had met a couple of times over the years, but who had never seemed to introduce himself, leant forward in his chair, looking them up and down.

“Please introduce yourselves,” their teacher prompted, and all eyes automatically turned to Minho. A strange warmth spread through his bones with the acknowledgement of his leadership, a role that had been a stranger to him before.

Minho introduced them as dancers quickly. He had done enough evaluations to know that’s not what they were interested in.

“Our dance was choreographed by us all equally, assisted with help from outside sources in the form of feedback and refinement.” Minho nodded at their teacher, hoping that she understood that as a thank you. He would thank Hobi in person later.

“The music was created by friends of ours and portrays a message of regret, heartbreak and hope,” he paused. He had never asked Jisung what the song was truly about. He wondered if he did, would Jisung tell him.

He continued,

“We wanted to amplify the story with our dance and used our own, personal experience as inspiration.”

Felix and Hyunjin both nodded. None of them had specified a certain thing that had inspired them, but it was clear how personal this dance was to them all. Individually it all meant something different. To Minho, it reflected his missing relationship with his father, his grief after losing his mother, the regret regarding the pain he had put his nan though, guilt concerning Kiwoo, and more recently but more hopefully, his growing feelings towards Jisung. He didn’t know what it meant to the others, but he knew it meant just as much to them as it did to him.

“Wonderful,” their teacher almost smiled. The other evaluator didn’t say anything.

Minho turned around and gestured for the other boys to come close.

“Are you ready?” he whispered and they both nodded nervously. Felix’s cheeks were absent of colour, making his freckles stand out even more. Hyunjin retied the ribbon at the end of his sleeve, which had come undone with his nervous fiddling.

“We can do this,” Minho smiled, “I believe in you.”

Felix breathed in deeply and nodded again,

“We can.”

“Fuck yeah we can,” Minho punched his arm lightly.

Hyunjin bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to pump himself up,

“Let’s go, we got this,” he didn’t sound convinced, but Minho cheered quietly none the less.

The other evaluator cleared his throat, indicating they should start.

The three crouched down, intertwining themselves until they were in their starting positions. Minho braced his weight on his right arm, the palm of his hand grounding him to the floor. Felix and Hyunjin’s body heat were comforting and familiar at his point.

Their teacher started the music and the familiar texting sound filled the studio. Minho took a final breath and started to move.

Jisung came spiriting down the hallway as soon as the bell went. The hallways filled with students filing out of classrooms and Jisung pushed through them, not bothering with being gentle. Bodies pressed against every inch of his skin, sticky and warm with the hot weather. Sweat built up in his hand, which was clenched in irritation by his side. He shouldn’t be holding this against his teacher, he realistically knew it, but it the moment it didn’t stop him from being annoyed. It was honestly understandable that he would be allowed to leave class, especially for something as trivial (in the teacher’s mind) as wishing his friends luck before their evaluation. That didn’t stop him from rushing out of the room as soon as the bell rang, not allowing a spare second for the teacher to prevent him from leaving.

The evaluation was most certainly over by now.

Jisung slowed as he reached the hall running parallel to the courtyard. The morning sun shone through the windows lining the right side, casting shadows of the large oak trees on the concrete floor. Through them, Jisung could see Felix, Hyunjin and Minho standing around their usual table.

Jisung started to run again.

He pushed in front of the teacher wearing the fluoro orange vest, and burst through the door, ignoring her scolding.

“Hyunjin!” he cried, exploding into the sunlight.

Hyunjin looked up in confusion, as did the majority of the rest of the people in the courtyard. Jisung didn’t stop running towards them, his backpack bouncing and swinging wildly. Hyunjin’s face faded from amusement into horror as Jisung made no effort to slow himself down, jumping into Hyunjin’s arms, causing him to stumble back. Hyunjin caught him, groaning with his added weight.

“I’m so sorry,” Jisung mumbled into Hyunjin’s neck, squeezing him tightly.

“Agghhh, it’s okay,” Hyunjin wheezed through Jisung’s hold.

“I really wanted to come though!” Jisung whined, letting Hyunjin go and dropping down to the ground, “Teacher wouldn’t let me out.” He pouted and Hyunjin squished his cheeks forcing the air out.

Felix, who had been sitting on the table, jumped to his feet,

“I knew he wouldn’t. He doesn’t like Jisung much.”

Jisung opened his mouth in offence and Felix laughed.

“Impossible!” Minho gasped sarcastically from where he was leaning against the tree, dance bag slung over his shoulder, “How can someone not like Jisung.”

In the past Jisung might have been hurt, but things were different now. He could recognise in Minho’s grin that he was joking.

Jisung rolled his eyes and Minho stuck his tongue out in response.

“But really,” Jisung dropped his backpack to the ground, “how did you go?”

Hyunjin and Felix both turned to look at Minho, and naturally, Jisung followed their gaze. Minho shrugged casually, but the little pull at the corner of his mouth indicated that he was pleased. Jisung couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he was.

“Good,” Minho nodded, allowing his smile to fully appear “very good.”

Jisung grinned,

“That’s amazing!”

“Yeah,” Minho suddenly blushed and looked down, his feet scuffing the dirt below him, “it’s pretty good.” He looked back up again, his eyes were soft and shy. Jisung smiled back fondly.

“Uhhhh,” Felix looked between them, eyebrows raised. Jisung immediately blushed and looked down at his lap.

“That’s great guys,” he muttered his face heating more, “Where is everybody?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject. For a brief moment, he wanted to tell them about his dad leaving again. He wanted to let it all out, break down and cry, let them build him back up again. He didn’t, they didn’t deserve that when they seemed so happy.

“Studying, we thought we deserved a break before worrying about exams again,” Minho answered, rocking away from the tree and wandering over to take a seat at the table.

Jisung groaned dramatically,

“Don’t remind me! How many exams do you have again?” He lifted his head to look at Hyunjin.

“Five. Dance, English, maths, bio…” Hyunjin crinkled his nose, the final subject having slipped his mind, “and… psychology.”

“That’s more than me.” Jisung pondered, waving his hand around, “I only have four.”

“You ready for them?” Minho threw a piece of grass at him. It caught in the wind and fluttered to the ground, nowhere near reaching him.

Jisung shrugged,

“As good as I’m gonna get.”

Felix sighed loudly,

“Me too,” Felix grumbled, snapping a twig in half and putting the two pieces in Hyunjin’s hood, “Hey, do you wanna come around to mine study for English. I think I’m gonna fail if I don’t work on it a bit?”

“Leaving it a bit late, aren’t you?” Hyunjin joked, picking the bits of stick back out again, “Yeah, I’ll come, you can help me with bio.”

“Look at you two being all studious!” Minho cooed, before laughing. Felix and Hyunjin both pouted at him.

“Jisung?”

The attention turned to him, with Felix’s call.

“Oh… Sorry, Lia’s picking me up from school. I’m taking her out for an early birthday because it’s in like the middle of exams.” Jisung didn’t breathe in between sentences, as if saying it quicker would be less embarrassing.

Felix snorted,

“Sounds like she’s taking you out.”

Jisung frowned, puffing out his cheeks,

“She has a car,” he whined, “Anyway, I’m paying!”

Felix hummed like he was trying to decide if that was adequate. Minho and Hyunjin both stayed silent.

“That’s reasonable,” he paused before grinning devilishly, leaning forwards in his seat, “Is it like a date date?”

“What?” Jisung asked, his voice sounding a little high, “It's not even a kinda date.”

“It sounds a little like a date,” Hyunjin added, his voice a little quiet to be joking.

Felix seemed to miss his hesitation, commenting “See!” with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Whatever it is,” Minho interrupted a little harshly, “I’m sure you’ll have fun.” He smiled, his face stony and his eyes somewhat cold. Jisung shiver, not understanding the implications behind his expression and tone.

Minho should have noticed it long ago. Looking back, it was so obvious, maybe he had already subconsciously been paying attention and it had only just registered. Hiding his emotions was something Hyunjin had never been good at. From the beginning, Minho had been able to read him like an open book, and maybe that’s a why it surprised him a little to only realise it now.

It was so clear in Hyunjin’s face. Anytime he thought no one was watching, the façade fell. That was one of the rules of being a good liar. Never let the façade drop, someone is always watching. In the brief moment when Hyunjin let his true emotions slip, his face showed Minho everything he needed to know. It was his soft, hopeless smiles, his blank expression when Jisung talked about Lia, and the angry one that immediately followed, which was quickly replaced by drowning sorrow, before returning to the blank slate.

It was obvious when Lia pulled up at the gate to the school in her snow-white convertible and Jisung practically sprinted across the front of the school to greet her. Hyunjin smile seemed too forced and it immediately faded as soon as the car pulled away. Minho watched from a distance as Hyunjin head followed the car down the street before dropping to the ground.

“He didn’t even say good-bye,” Hyunjin muttered to himself, only just loud enough for Minho to hear. Minho pretended he hadn’t.

“Bye Hyunjin!” He called loudly, so at least someone would. Hyunjin’s head snapped up and the forced smile returned, though this time it seemed a little softer, “Good job with dance today,” Minho continued, almost yelling to breach the distance between them, “Have fun studying!”

Hyunjin groaned dramatically but waved none the less. He smiled again, and to Minho, this one looked a little more genuine.

Minho waved back.

Internally he cried. There was no way a situation like this could end in anything other than heartbreak. Either he or Hyunjin would end up broken, more than likely both of them, and it wasn’t like they could blame Jisung if neither of them told him.

Hyunjin loved Jisung.

Minho could relate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this one. It feels more like a filler and likes each of the sections are a little unconnected. There was a lot of stuff that needed to happen, so I tried my best.


	32. Chapter 32 (It looks good Jisung, seriously)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The production I've been working on for the past ten weeks is finally happening tonight and I'm excited! Just uploading this while the actors do their final run-through, as I wait to be able to dress them.

Despite the warm weather, it rained all Tuesday morning.

Minho zipped his jacket up, right to his chin and tucked his hands in the sleeves to keep them dry. His manager laughed at him as he struggled to tuck all his hair into his hood, using the tiny strip of mirror down the side of the sunglass stand as a guide. Minho frowned at him but didn’t say anything. His shoes and socks were already soaked from the way to work, when he had stepped in a puddle, not noticing it in the darkness. He didn’t bother taking any measures to keep them dry. 

“Is there any chance of me picking up any more shifts?” Minho asked, wandering back around to where his manager had returned to his paperwork.

“Minho,” the old man sighed loudly, leaning back in his chair, “We’ve already talked about this.”

“I know…” Minho unhooked his schoolbag from behind the door and swung it over his shoulder, “I was hoping things had changed.”

“I can’t Minho” He didn’t look at Minho when he talked, “The others are already complaining. I’ve done all I can, but they need work too.”

Minho’s heart dropped. He hadn’t been expecting a different answer, but maybe he had been more hopeful than he had thought.

This was bad. He had picked up more shifts just so he could handle the rent increase. Now he not only had to find a way to pay for the repairs but also had to find a place to stay while they took place. How could something as insignificant as a tiny leak cause so many problems? 

“I get it,” he mumbled quietly, before walking out without saying goodbye. The older woman, who worked after him, stared as he marched across the store and out the door.

It wasn’t his fault, but that’s just how the world worked.

His landlord had caught him in the lobby on his way home from school the night before. Minho knew something was wrong the moment she offered him a candy, which he declined. Who knew how long it had been in her pocket?

“Minho Darling…” She had started and Minho dropped his dance bag to the floor, “The inspector came today to check out that leak.”

Minho nodded. About time! He had been laying towels and clothes under the sink to stop the water from running onto the rug for weeks. 

“Anyway,” she has spoken quickly as if it might be less painful for him to hear it fast, “It’s a bit more of an issue than we thought. The water has run under the floorboards, and it looks like it has been for a while,” she took a deep breath, “Long story short, we have to re-do all the flooring. It’s all been rotting, and it won’t be safe for much longer. They need to be replaced as soon as possible.”

Minho had stared at her,

“What.” 

She had flinched with his harshness and Minho had forced himself to relax. 

“I’m sorry,” He had run a hand through his hair, “how long is it going take.” 

“A week and a half, if not longer.”

Minho’s eyes widened, hoping that he had misheard her mumble, “That’s too long, I can’t afford that!”

She had flinched again,

“I’ll pay for half, both the actual repairs and living expenses while they take place. I can’t offer anymore sorry.”

Minho had snatched his bag back off the floor angrily. It was too late, and he was too tired.

“I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

He left his landlord by herself in the lobby, listening to him march up the stairs, taking his frustration out on every step. 

It was raining on Minho’s way to school. Unlike the route from home to school, the one from work to school had no bus and Minho was forced to walk. Droplets of water found their way under his jacket, dripping between the fabric of his uniform and his skin. In a brief moment of bitterness Minho wondered if he let them hang there for long enough, would his skin start to rot away as his floorboards had. 

He had talked to his landlord again in the morning, after spending the night in his apartment, the one whose damp smell was now explainable. She was still in her pyjamas and looked half asleep. Minho guessed she had gotten up early, specifically to catch him before he left for work. Why else would she be up before the sun rose? She had agreed with Minho’s request to have the repairs done during the holidays when he didn’t have to be close to the school but had warned that it might be hard to have the workers come in on a specific date, as their schedules were most likely busiest around that time. 

Minho had shrugged. 

It was okay, he could just stay with his nan until they were done. As long as he could come back in time for his dance competition, everything would be fine. Hobi wouldn’t be happy about him missing a couple weeks’ worth of lessons, but Hobi could be reasoned with. Minho wouldn’t be happy spending that long in a town that reminded him of nothing but hatred and heartbreak, but Minho could deal with it. 

His nan would be happy to see him again anyway. It had been too long since Minho had visited. 

Chan and Hyunjin were waiting together on the table in the courtyard. Hyunjin had his camera out and was taking pictures of a pigeon pecking at a sandwich that must have left the day before. Chan was sitting under an umbrella but Hyunjin was just letting the rain fall on him. 

“I was expecting you to be in the library,” Minho called when he had drawn close enough to. 

Chan shrugged,

“Exam first up, what good is it gonna do me to study now. Besides, Hyunjin here has been putting off his photography assignment to the last minute and still needs photos.”

“I have not been putting it off!” Hyunjin defended himself not taking his gaze off the pigeon, “I just prioritised other stuff first.”

“You sound like Jisung,” Chan chuckled, and Minho immediately looked at Hyunjin to gauge his attention. 

Hyunjin shivered dramatically, 

“Don’t compare me to him,” he finally looked up from his camera, “You know he hasn’t studied for English at all.”

Chan laughed at the disgust on Hyunjin’s face,

“He’ll probably get an A still.”

Hyunjin looked away to re-focus his camera,

“He always does.”

There it was. The quiet fondness in place of the more predictable, joking, bitterness. 

“Hyung!” Hyunjin complained as Minho came close enough to scare the pigeon off.

“It will come back,” Minho shrugged and flopped down on the table next to Chan.

Hyunjin pouted and Minho mocked him, displaying an exaggerated copy of Hyunjin’s face and then immediately regretting it when he heard Hyunjin’s camera click.

“Ewwww,” Hyunjin laughed at the photo as Minho frowned, “You look ugly Hyung!” he showed Chan, who laughed too, “I’m gonna get this one developed.”

Minho crossed his arms sulkily but didn’t ask Hyunjin to delete it. 

“Hey Chan,” Minho asked suddenly after a moment of silence, “when are we going away again?”

“Oh yeah,” Chan yawned, and Minho wrinkled his nose to stop himself from yawning too, “I forgot I still needed to talk to you about that. The house is booked from the Friday after school ends until Saturday the next week. Does that work with you?”

“Yeah,” Minho replied quickly, pulling out his phone, “That works great.”

“Works for me too, in case you were wondering.” Hyunjin pitched in sarcastically and Chan threw an acorn at him, promptly scaring the pigeon away for a second time. 

“Hyuuunngggg!” Hyunjin whined loudly, shaking the rain out his eyes, “I was almost done!”

“Surely you have enough?” Chan didn’t apologise but did sound sorry, “You’ve been taking pictures of that pigeon for half an hour.” 

Minho didn’t ask why they were at school so early.

Hyunjin ignored him and started carefully packing his camera away again. 

“Your Chemistry exam is this morning isn’t it?” Chan asked while they both watched Hyunjin attempt to dry the lens on a wet jumper.

“This afternoon,” Minho corrected, “Repeat the dates we’re away again,”

Chan did as he was told, and Minho copied them into his phone.

8.15: Hi Miss Im, I’m gonna be away from Friday the 27th to Saturday the 5th. Do you think the repairs could be made then?

“Repairs?” Chan asked, reading over his shoulder. 

“Yep,” Minho replied shortly, turning his phone screen off. Chan didn’t say anything as if waiting for Minho to elaborate, which he didn’t. 

Hyunjin finished packing away the camera into its case and came over to stand with the others. Chan patted his head fondly, stroking his soaking hair fondly.

“Are you gonna stay that wet all day?” Minho asked, poking at Hyunjin’s dripping school jumper. It was his own way of caring, slightly harsher, and less obvious than Chan’s.

“I’m gonna get changed.” Hyunjin pointed over at his dance back, which was nice and dry under the veranda. 

“I told the others we would meet them in the library,” Chan said, taking the camera off Hyunjin, and allowing him to wiggle out his sweater. 

“Good,” Minho tucked a lock of hair that had slipped out his hood back in, “I don’t think I could handle being out here any longer.”

“Do you hate the rain that much?” 

Minho shivered,

“Yes, I don’t get how you can stand it.”

Hyunjin laughed, squeezing the water out his hair,

“You’re exactly like your cats; you know that right.”

Minho scoffed,

“As if. You’ve never even met my cats.”

Hyunjin snickered and lifted his hand up to scratched under Minho’s chin, which Minho didn’t allow, slapping his hand away before he even got close. 

“I’m going inside now,” Minho said, starting to walk before either of the others could keep him from. Chan didn’t seem fazed and continued alongside him. Hyunjin stumbled after them, like a puppy at their heels.

Changbin and Felix were both already in the library, which Minho wished he had known before. He would have rather spent the last ten minutes warm and dry rather than out in the rain. 

“Have any of you talked to Jisung?” Felix asked as soon as they entered, calling loudly across the room. 

Minho and Chan both shook their heads but Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically.

“He’s up to something, isn’t he?” Hyunjin called back as the librarian glared at his dripping clothes. 

“Oh definitely,” Felix replied, patting the beanbag beside him, indicating for one of them to take the place. 

“How can you tell?” Chan sighed, taking up Felix offer. The foam balls in the cushion were pushed to the edges with a quiet ‘whoosh’ with the addition of his weight. 

“It’s obvious,” Hyunjin said, waving his hand like it was an explanation and taking the final beanbag, leaving only Minho standing. 

“He’s being vague,” Felix expanded, mimicking Hyunjin’s hand motion. 

“Who?” a squeaking voice asked from behind Minho. They all turned around to see Jeongin and Seungmin, hair wet from the early morning baseball training. Minho saw the librarian shrink back in horror, watching the water ruin the carpets. Minho fully understood. Maybe the damage water had caused to his own floors had scared him. At least they had both had the sense to change into dry clothes, unlike Hyunjin.

“It’s Jisung, isn’t it?” Seungmin interjected, answering Jeongin’s question before any of them got the chance, “He’s up to something.”

“You lot are weird,” Changbin muttered, looking between Felix, Hyunjin and Seungmin, with a mixed expression on his face, “I don’t get how you do that.”

“What?” Felix asked, leaning back until his head was resting on Changbin’s lap.

“Know what each other is thinking without saying anything, knowing Jisung’s up to something without him even being here.” He waved his hands around and Felix giggled at him.

“It’s our telepathy,” he giggled again, “Twin shit, you know.”

“Bullshit,” Changbin grumbled but didn’t say anything else to dispute it. The rest of the 00-line laughed, each reaching over to poke him. Jeongin joined in, even if he had no reason to. 

In the end, they didn’t see Jisung in the library, but Minho did receive a message from him.

8.30: Running late! Oops! I’ll see you at break, wish Chan and Changbin good luck on their exams for me, I’ll be there in time to wish you luck personally 

He didn’t seem vague to Minho. But in the end, Minho didn’t know him as well as the others did. The reminder was painful, no matter how much Minho tried to ignore it. 

Jisung was true to his words as by the time the bell rang, indicating the end of the first lesson, he had arrived, and judging by the close-knit circle of people around him, causing quite the commotion. 

The sound of Jisung’s flustered laugh carried up the hall, growing louder as Minho approached. Minho bounced on his toes, trying to catch sight of Jisung, but at the exact same time, Hyunjin shuffled his weight to his right side, perfectly obscuring Minho’s view once again. 

“I don’t know if I like it,” Jisung’s voice stood out amongst the chaos.

“What do you mean! It looks sick!”

Hyunjin stepped back towards his left, and suddenly Jisung was in sight.

Jisung, who now had deep blue hair.

“Wow,” Minho breathed as he drew closer, his friends opening to allow him in the circle. 

“I know right!” Felix exclaimed, grinning with excitement, “How good does it look?!”

Jisung wrinkled his nose as Felix ruffled his hair. The blue strands seemed to glow under the bright white lights in the hallway.

“It smells like chemicals.” He complained, pushing Felix away, “and my bathroom still smells like bleach.”

“You look like a blueberry,” Seungmin commented tilting his head to the side. 

“A hot blueberry.” Felix teased and Jisung, Minho and Hyunjin all blushed. 

“Lia’s looked better,” Jisung muttered, pulling at his fringe, and Felix almost screamed.

“She dyed hers too?!”

“Yep,” Jisung said quietly, shaking his head so his hair covered his eyes. Minho couldn’t control himself and reached out to brush it out the way and tuck it behind his ears. 

“If you don’t give us the whole story I might die,” Seungmin warned, also reaching out and touching the blue strands. His action made Minho relax slightly at his own. 

“It’s not a big deal…” Jisung’s entire face had turned red, “Deaun gave her money to get it done professionally as a gift, but we spent it on penguins instead.”

“Penguins?”

Jisung nodded,

“There was an exhibit, and if you paid extra you could go in and feed them.”

Felix gasped and made grabby hands at Jisung’s phone,

“Let me seeeeeeeeee!”

The others crowded around the phone while Minho stood back. He was sure the penguins were cute, but they couldn’t be any more than Jisung was right now. His cheeks were still warm and pink, and his mouth was pulled into a shy smile. The blue of his hair was the exact shade that Minho imagined the ocean to be. Out in the middle, where its depths hide secrets and at night it reflects galaxies on the surface. He looked beautiful. 

Felix took the phone off Jisung and started looking through them independently. Minho would never trust any of them with his, but Jisung didn’t seem bothered and came over to stand beside Minho. He kept on fiddling with his hair, almost nervously. 

“It looks good Jisung, seriously.” 

Jisung flushed again, turning to look at Minho with wide doe-like eyes,

“Thank you,” he whispered, eyes dropping briefly to the floor before flicking back up to meet Minho’s.

Minho felt his own cheeks warm and swallowed nervously. Suddenly the hall felt too hot and Jisung felt unusually close. The distance wasn’t uncomfortable but was worryingly tempting, it felt dangerous and selfish. 

His attention was pulled away by a loud gasp from Felix and a more muffled one from Hyunjin. Both Minho and Jisung’s heads snapped up to look at them. 

Hyunjin’s hand were raised to his mouth, eyes glued to the phone. Felix held the phone out and from the small distance between them, Minho could recognise the picture they were showing was a selfie. Two figures with blue hair grinned at the camera. Jisung and Lia. 

“Han Jisung! Explain yourself!” Felix exclaimed, shoving the phone in his face.

Jisung blushed hard once again and buried his face in his hands,

“Don’t look at it, it’s embarrassing.” 

Hyunjin was still frozen, staring at the spot where the phone had been. Felix pushed the device into Minho’s hand.

“Embarrassing?!” Seungmin interjected, “You look hot?”

Minho nervously flipped the phone over, so the screen was showing. 

What Seungmin had said was an understatement. The photo of Jisung shone up at him and Minho felt like if he looked at for too long, he might be blinded. 

The Jisung in the photo looked like the one in real life, but so very different. His eyes were dark with makeup, sort of like the type Minho would sometimes wear, but instead of looking damaged and dangerous, Jisung looked soft and alluring. His mouth was slightly parted, lips shimmering with a gloss, tongue just visible. 

He most definitely looked hot. He looked captivating. He looked like someone Minho would unthinkingly die for. 

Minho turned the screen off before he passed out on the spot. Felix took it back off him, Minho’s hands fumbling as he handed it over. Jisung groaned into his hands.

“How on earth did she convince you to wear eyeliner?” Seungmin asked, shaking his head. Jisung didn’t respond. 

Felix swiped to the next picture,

“Are you wearing leather pants?!” 

Minho didn’t think he could handle seeing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BlueSung because I couldn't resist! On another note, I am so much happier with this chapter than the last one. I can't remember what else I was supposed to say here, I'm too excited.


	33. Chapter 33 (What happened the day we met?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains homophobic slurs, graphic description of violence and some triggering language. If any of these things trigger you please don't read or approach carefully. All triggering aspects take place in the flashback (the part in italics).
> 
> Just to be clear, I don't support the use of slurs, I think that it's disgusting. The character in this story who uses them is a horrible human being, and I am not suggesting you follow their example. I know people probably won't care, but I just wanted to clarify. 
> 
> If anyone is triggered or uncomfortable with these things but wants to keep reading, please message me on Instagram @babybear.skz and I can give you a rundown of the chapter.  
>   
> Also, this chapter is mostly a flashback, which continues directly on after chapter 25. I would recommend re-reading it either before or after this chapter if you haven't read it since it was uploaded, or if you just want a refresher.
> 
> Sorry, I had to upload it again because it was messing up.

On Tuesday afternoon Minho got a message from Lia.

He left school by himself, not wanting to face anyone after his exam. Not talking about a test was easier than constantly thinking about how you did. He was well out the school gates before he stopped to check his phone.

_3.40: Hi Minho, are you working tonight? I was hoping we could grab something to eat together, coffee if you’re not hungry._

Minho wasn’t working. He had dance, but not until later. Anyway, he didn’t really feel like returning back to his apartment, the room was too small to spend the entire afternoon in.

_3.42: Sure, sounds good. Jisung and Deaun coming?_

_3.43: Nope, just us._

Minho honestly wouldn’t have considered him and Lia to be friends, not really, and her answer was certainly not the one he was expecting. Still, it would be nice to go out.

_3.44: Sure, I need to go to dance later, but we can meet at the café up the road_

Lia sent back a clip of a baby clapping and Minho snickered to himself.

Minho continued home to drop off his school clothes and change out his uniform. His landlord was waiting for him, leaning against the front door, smoking and scrolling through her phone. When she caught sight of Minho, the cigarette was tapped out and crushed under her foot, even though Minho was pretty sure she was aware that he smoked too.

“Minho,” Miss Im sounded surprised, despite the fact she had been waiting, “You’re earlier than I was expecting.”

Minho checked the time,

“Oh yeah, left school early after finishing the exam.”

His landlord shook her head,

“You can’t be doing that Minho.”

Minho frowned at her, confused,

“Didn’t you drop out?”

“That’s not the point,” Miss Im said dismissively, waving her hand as if to brush his statement away.

Minho rolled his eyes and stepped through the door, the whole lobby smelt of her tobacco. Minho stopped at the stairs,

“What did you want to tell me?” he turned back around to face her, shaking the hair out his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” She sounded like she’d forgotten that there was a reason behind their conversation, “I talked to the workers, and then can come in the days you mentioned, but it will probably take a couple days longer.”

Minho sighed in relief,

“That’s fine, thanks, Miss Im.”

He started up the stairs but was stopped again,

“Minho,” Miss Im called after him, “me and some of the other tenants are going out for dinner tonight, want to join?”

Minho forced himself to smile apologetically,

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m going out to meet a friend in a second. Have fun.”

He continued up the stairs before Miss Im somehow found a way for him to make it. It wasn’t that Minho disliked her; it’s just she was older… as was most of the other people living there. Conversations, when Minho was dragged out with them, were dull and usually left Minho looking for an excuse to leave.

Thank goodness for Lia.

Minho arrived at the café before she did. He felt comfortable there, the staff knew him by name, and there was usually one or more of the dancers taking a break. It would be an easy place to meet, and he wouldn’t feel out of place in his dance gear.

They hadn’t organised a time to meet, but Minho was happy to wait. It was a nice breather after the stress that had been exams that day.

Lia didn’t take that long to arrive. Minho watched her silver car park down the road, then watch her trot up the door, wearing a lavender raincoat over her school uniform. Her hair was dark blue, just like Jisung’s but in Minho’s opinion, it didn’t look as good on her.

She waved at him, and Minho waved back. Once again, it was hard not to smile when she did.

“How did your exam go?” she asked, after placing her order and coming to opposite him, “Jisung said they started today.”

Minho shrugged,

“I think I did okay.”

He left it at that, but Lia didn’t seem bothered by his surface-level answer.

“Mine start on Thursday,” she groaned, “I’ve been doing everything I can to avoid studying!” She lay the top half of her body across the table dramatically.

Minho snorted,

“Fantastic study habits!” he congratulated sarcastically, and Lia laughed too.

The waitress came over with her drink and put it on the table awkwardly. Lia sat up quickly, cheeks a little pink from embarrassment. Minho bit his lip to stop himself laughing as Lia mumbled a thank you to the waitress and sipped her drink quietly.

“How long do you have until dance?” Lia asked after swallowing whatever sugary beverage she’d ordered.

“Umm,” Minho turned on his phone screen to check the time, “Like forty minutes.”

Lia sighed,

“I was hoping we would have longer, that way I could actually enjoy your company before bringing this up.” She sighed again.

“What?” Under the table, Minho’s fist closed around the fabric of his shirt.

Lia mixed her drink with the paper straw nervously,

“Minho, we need to talk… What happened the day we met?”

Minho’s head snapped up,

“What do you mean?”

Minho knew exactly what she meant.

“Well…” Lia wiped the edge of her glass where the drink had slipped over with a napkin, then folded it neatly. Her nails were painted to match her hair, “I mean, you showed up to school the next morning completely beaten up.”

Minho kept watching her hands to avoid looking into her eyes.

“Minho, why did you lie about Chris.”

Minho sighed and ran his hand through his hair,

“Deaun figured it out, didn’t she?”

Lia bit her lip,

“Yeah…”

Minho sighed again,

“I figured; she hasn’t messaged me in ages.”

_The day Minho and Lia met_

_Minho tried to delay closing for as long as possible. It was dark outside and the reflections on the windows stopped him from being to see out, but he could almost feel Chris’s eyes watching him._

_When you close, I’ll be waiting._

_Minho stretched out his hands and tipped his head back, leaning it against the wall behind him._

_The fight was inevitable, there was honestly no easy way to avoid it._

_It felt weird, not looking forward to it. It felt weird wanting to avoid it._

_Fighting had been such a huge part of his life. He had been so greedy to rip his opponent apart, to inflict his pain on them and to simultaneously receive some of his own._

_He had been so desperate for it, now he was dreading it._

_“Minho,” His manager waved his backpack over one shoulder, “I’m gonna leave now. You good to lock up by yourself?”_

_Minho nodded, his blood running cold,_

_“Yeah, I’ll be good.”_

_His manager left and Minho’s head dropped into his hands._

_“Fuck.”_

_There was a knock on the window._

_Chris._

_Minho ironed his face flat and opened the door. He was met with Chris, smiling up at him, eyes dark and dangerous. Minho snorted through his nose and Chris laughed._

_“Hi,” Minho said flatly. It was easier to drop into his fighter headspace than he had expected. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he had thought._

_“Hello,” Chris’s response was more drawn out than Minho’s. It was more obviously a threat, whereas Minho’s was more as a way to indicate he wasn’t scared._

_Minho’s was a lie; he was terrified._

_Minho put his hands in his pockets and leant against the door frame._

_Never show you were afraid._

_“Why are you here?” Minho asked, raising his eyebrows and looking at Chris with disgust, it was a practiced look._

_“Oh, I think you might know,” Chris laughed coldly, and Minho was almost impressed. He was better than Minho was expecting, but still, Minho was the best._

_“Hmm,” Minho took his hand out his pocket and picked at his nails, “I guess I do.” He sighed, stepped down and pulled the door shut behind him. It locked from the inside._

_Chris watched him carefully._

_“You wanna do it here,” Minho gestured around, “or somewhere less…” he paused, “less easy to find?”_

_Chris smirked and Minho grinned back. It felt both like they were sharing a joke, and also threatening to kill each other. Pre-fight banter was exhilarating._

_“I like the sound of that,” Chris agreed, his smirk not fading. Minho didn’t let it phase him._

_“Good,” Minho started walking down the street, Chris following close behind, “I’m glad we’re on the same page._

_Chris snorted again,_

_“Sure, same page.”_

_They walked in silence until they reached a side ally. Tall fences lined either side and Minho knew from a recent robbery that there were no cameras pointed in that direction._

_Minho dropped both dance bag to the ground and kicked them against the wall. Chris looked around, making his mind up about the place. Minho did the same, though he was smart enough not to let Chris see what he was taking notice of. Secretly Minho let his eyes scar the ground, while he leant on the fence, evaluating how stable it was. The ground was free of broken glass, which was something worth remembering and the fence was stable were the posts were but weak in between. If his body was thrown against the weaker parts the fence was more likely to break than he was._

_Chris finished walking up and down the ally, checking the windows of the shops and houses that lined it._

_He nodded,_

_“It’s fine.”_

_Minho grinned,_

_“I know.”_

_Chris rolled his shoulders back like he was ready to go, but Minho wasn’t gonna let him start yet._

_“I would love to ask who you are before I fuck you up, but unfortunately I already know,” Minho let himself make eye contact with Chris, “So instead I’ll ask why?”_

_“Why?” Chris tilted his head to the side and ran his tongue over his teeth._

_“Why?” Minho repeated, “Why are we doing this? I mean I’m happy to do it no matter the reason, but I think I’d like to know. What’s your issue with me?”_

_“My issue?” Chris asked, “Oh, I don’t really have and issue with you, I just don’t like you. Tommy on the other hand… He hates you.”_

_Minho faltered. Tommy, he should have seen that coming._

_“Tommy,” Minho hummed, not letting his surprise show, “I would have expected him to have the balls to come out and do this himself.”_

_Chris ignored his comment,_

_“Tommy doesn’t like you hanging out with Deaun, doesn’t trust you,” Chris laughed, “If I were him, I wouldn’t like your dirty hands touching my girl either.”_

_It was Minho’s turn to snort._

_“Tommy thinks I like Deaun? He’s more of an idiot than I thought.”_

_“What?” Chris looked him up and down, “You gay or something?”_

_Minho slipped up and visibly tensed._

_Chris barked with laughter,_

_“You are?”_

_Minho glared at him._

_“Now I think about it…” Chris put his finger to his temple like he was trying to remember something, but the grin on his face said he knew exactly what the next words to come out his mouth would be, “Tommy didn’t like you hanging around his little friend, what’s his name again?”_

_“Jisung,” Minho responded before he could stop himself._

_“Yeah,” Chris’s grin was growing, “He didn’t like you hanging out with Jisung either.”_

_“He doesn’t have that right,” Minho snapped, “They haven’t been friends in years.”_

_“Ooooooh, I hit a sore spot,” Chris taunted, shoving his face in Minho’s, “You like the kid, don’t you? Want to shove your tongue down his throat? Rip his clothes off? Tie him up and fu-”_

_Minho punched him._

_His fist collided with Chris’s face with a loud crack and Chris stumbled back, hands over his face._

_“Don’t fucking talk about Jisung in that way,” Minho spat, blood boiling._

_Chris brought his hands away from his face. Blood dripped down his chin. He wasn’t smiling anymore._

_“I’m gonna kill you,” Chris snarled, and Minho didn’t doubt it. There was something murderous in Chris’s eyes, something that knew an advantage that Minho didn’t._

_Minho swallowed._

_He could handle this._

_Chris charged at him. He reminded Minho of the wildebeest he had seen on National Geographic, brash, strong, and dangerous. Once they were moving, they were unstoppable, the force of one alone could kill a man._

_Minho fake dodged, but Chris caught him and threw his body to the ground. This angle twisted as he fell, a sharp pain shooting up his leg. His head slammed into the dirt and for a dizzying moment, Minho’s vision faded to black, before quickly returning._

_Chris pinned him down with one hand on his chest, making it harder for Minho to breathe. If he moved his hand two inches upwards, Chris could strangle Minho with no problem. By his side Minho felt around on the ground, desperately searching for something to get him out from underneath Chris. This would have been the time when broken glass would have been useful. Instead, his hand closed around a rock. It wasn’t the best, but it was something._

_With his free hand, Chris brushed the hair out of Minho’s face,_

_“I hope you didn’t think I was joking when I said I was gonna kill you, Fag.”_

_“Never doubted you for a second,” Minho spat back._

_“Good,” Chris whispered, stretching out the word and running his free hand down from Minho’s face to his neck a chest, then along his stomach, before rising to pull something out of his own pocket._

_Minho froze._

_Chris had a knife._

_Chris could kill him if he wanted._

_He flicked the knife open and ran the blade along Minho’s collar, dangerously close to Minho’s neck._

_Chris suddenly slashed with the knife, and Minho filched, but Chris had only cut through his shirt, ripping it open to reveal Minho’s scar._

_Minho had flashbacks to years ago when he had ripped his shirt practice fighting and Kiwoo and the others that admired the same scar._

_“Already been cut here?” Chris pondered, “Don’t mind if we make it bleed again?”_

_Minho gasped as Chris traced the scar with the tip of the knife, applying just enough pressure to cut through the skin._

_Blood ran down Minho’s neck, soaking into the ground. This time it didn’t feel good to bleed._

_“Oh, I’m sorry,” Chris ran his blade over the skin again, opening the cut further and causing Minho to whimper in pain, “did that hurt?”_

_Chris shifted his position and suddenly Minho saw his chance. In a flurry of movement, practiced to the point of precision many years ago, Minho knocked out Chris’s legs from underneath him and simultaneously forced the rock into the side of Chris’s head. There was a loud crack when the stone collided with his skull and Chris dropped the knife in a mix of surprise and pain._

_Minho was in control now._

_He was willing to take the risks that no one else would._

_Minho flipped them around, so he was the one pinning Chris to the ground and unlike Chris, Minho knew how to keep Chris’s arms out of action._

_Minho punched him again._

_And again._

_And again._

_The blood from Chris’s nose continued to run and joined the pool flowing out his mouth._

_Minho’s body wanted to kill Chris, the hate and anger overflowed into his brain clouding his vision._

_Chris laughed, voice breaking with the pressure of Minho’s knees on his lungs._

_“You’ve got bite Faggot.”_

_Any limited control Minho had over his actions left. He blindly swung his fists forward hitting the ground more than Chris’s face. The skin of his knuckles split, and his pain only added to his anger. He screamed out, his hate overwhelming. Chris laughed again._

_“Shut up,” Minho screamed. He was a wild animal. No control only instinct and raw emotion._

_“What are you going to do? Kill me?” Chris’s voice cracked and his eyes swam like he was fading out of conscience. Minho felt no pity, no mercy._

_Chris’s knife lay on the ground, discarded where he had dropped it. The cut across his collar bleed heavily. The knife was sharp and dangerous, Minho bore evidence of it, and it was within Minho’s grasp._

_He grabbed it and realised if he answered yes, he could very well go through with it. Chris’s eyes widened as Minho’s hand closed around the leather grip, but it was with surprise, not fear. He wasn’t afraid of what Minho could do even if Minho held his life in his hands. The steel blade flashed, reflecting the dim streetlight. The light was blinding and jarring._

_Minho tilted the blade and suddenly all he could see was his own eyes, reflected in the metal. The pair that stared back were dark and angry. They belonged to a predator, untameable and inconsolable. They belonged to a killer._

_Suddenly Minho was everything anyone had said he was. The rumours he had believed to be lies turned around to face him as predications._

_He didn’t drop the knife, but he also didn’t plunge it down into Chris’s neck, as his instincts told him to. Instead, he grasped it with a shaking fist and clumsily lifted his weight off his chest. Minho didn’t look back as he grabbed his dance bag and walked away._

_The sound of Chris’s laughter followed him down the ally._

_The walk home was longer than it had ever felt before. He only stopped once, on the bridge, where he dropped the knife in the river and didn’t stay to watch it sink._

_Chris had tried to kill him; Minho had just been defending his life. He had done the right thing. It sounded more like someone else was telling him because he didn’t believe his own words. He didn’t feel merciful. He felt like a killer and a coward._

_He felt like a monster._

“Deaun said that Chris beat you up?” Lia sipped her drink nervously, peering up at Minho.

Minho sighed,

“He did. Did she tell you why?”

Lia shook her head,

“No, she doesn’t know. But I think I do.”

“Do you?”

Lia nodded,

“Tommy, right?”

Minho tilted his head back,

“Yep. Tommy.”

“Tommy asked him to beat you up, but why?” Lia stared up at him with wide innocent eyes. She looked a little like Jisung. Nowhere near as cute though.

Minho sighed again,

“I’m not a good person, he doesn’t trust me around Deaun, or Jisung. Wants me to stay away.

Lia frowned,

“I think you’re a good person.”

Minho chuckled,

“Thanks.”

“No problem!” Lia grinned, and Minho was glad he had kept the details to himself. She was too innocent to learn all that, “Are you gonna tell Jisung?”

Minho froze,

“Why would I tell Jisung?”

Lia frowned at him again,

“Jisung was best friends with Tommy for years. Jisung still admires him a lot. Don’t you think Jisung deserves to know the truth?”

Minho rubbed his forehead,

“That’s exactly why Jisung can’t know. I don’t want to force him to pick sides.”

_I know, that if forced to, Jisung could pick Tommy’s, and I can’t afford to lose him. It’s not worth the risk._

Lia flicked the straw and watched it spin around the cup,

“It’s up to you, but if I were him, I would want to know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Minho drained his coffee, “I’ll see you later Lia, I’m gonna go to dance early.”

Lia nodded,

“Oh, and Lia,” Minho added, just before he left, “Thanks for picking my side.”

Lia shrugged,

“Why wouldn’t I? I like you. Besides, Chris was the one who started it, you were only defending yourself.”

Minho nodded. Technically he was the one to throw the first punch, but Lia didn’t need to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading everybody. 
> 
> I hope I didn't make anyone too uncomfortable. To be honest, I was a little uncomfortable writing it, especially the dialogue Chris says about Jisung. My original draft had him saying some... worse... things, but I had to cut him off, I was not comfortable with the original version at all.
> 
> I think it might be time for me to update the tags. Pretty sure the current ones are a bit miss leading. I also might change the rating. I think that I might fit better being rated m. What do you think?
> 
> This is one of the chapters I've had written for ages. At least I had the second half of the flashback for ages. I think I wrote it in December last year. Believe it or not, it used to be much more graphic, I've toned it down a lot. Minho's character has been toned down a lot.


	34. Chapter 34 (It was the lover’s first kiss and the dead’s last goodbye)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I've been crazy busy recently, and I will be for the next two weeks, but then school ends and I'm freeeee for ten weeks. I tried to upload this yesterday but fell asleep while editing so yeah that didn't happen.

Friday came around far quicker than any of them were expecting. The final exams finished, and the taste of freedom fell over everybody’s lips. The sun came out once again after the heavy rain that had poured the first half of the week, drying up the puddles and leaving the world clean and fresh.

For the first time that week, Jisung felt like he could breathe. Exam’s hadn’t gone the best, but they hadn’t been terrible either, his mum would be happy with the results and that’s all that mattered.

His dad rang in the morning and Jisung answered for once. He sat on the bottom stair of the apartment block and made small talk with his father, watching a beetle walking up the wall. The call was awkward but didn’t make Jisung want to punch something, so maybe improvements were being made.

Jisung said goodbye and sat in the sunshine for a little. His eyes fluttered shut as he leant against the wall, letting the sun warm his face.

It was nice just to take a moment.

Jisung heard the electronic click of the gate opening but ignored it. They could walk around him. He listened to the footsteps walking up the gravel path, the stones crunching under every step until they were right beside him. Jisung kept his eyes shut, waiting for them to pass him, but they never did. Jisung opened one eye slightly to see Minho looking down at him, a fond smile spread across his lips.

“Hey,” Minho smiled and Jisung opened his eyes properly.

“Hey,” Jisung smiled back and patted the step beside him. Minho took his offer and sat down, dropping his dance and school bag to the floor before he did so.

“Wasn’t expecting me?” Minho asked teasingly, leaning back, hands splayed out to support his weight. They were taking up the whole staircase now and anyone who needed to pass would have a difficult job doing so.

“I wasn’t,” Jisung confirmed, “What brings you here.”

“I left early enough to walk today. Your house isn’t too far out my way, thought I would come and walk you to school.”

“That was a nice idea.”

“ _Was_ a nice idea?” Minho turned to look at him, a slight frown on his face, “What? Are you not going to let me?”

Jisung chuckled,

“I’ll let you, but you did break-in,” he pointed at the gate, which had clicked back into place, locking automatically.

Minho laughed sheepishly,

“Sorry… I remembered the code from last time.”

Jisung waved his hand dismissively,

“I’m only joking, I don’t care. The landlord would, but he doesn’t need to know.”

“Ugghhh,” Minho ground, “landlords.”

Jisung snickered,

“Mine hates the fact that I have friends, hates that they can let themselves in.”

Minho snorted,

“Mine’s just annoying, she keeps trying to invite me places with the other tenants,” he wrinkled his nose, “I don’t want to hang out with all the old people.”

“You the only teenager?” Jisung asked, tilting his head to the side.

Minho nodded,

“I’m the youngest in general. I think the second youngest is like thirty-five or something.”

Jisung raised his eyebrows,

“Damn, I’m the only teenager too, but there’s like small kids and shit.”

Minho snorted again,

“Small kids and shit?”

Jisung hit him lightly,

“Shut up!”

Minho giggled,

“It’s okay if he asks, I’ll just say you let me in.”

“Good,” Jisung nodded happily.

They both angled their faces to the sun, letting it warm their skin.

“You seem happy today,” Jisung commented, looking over to see Minho still smiling, eyes lightly closed.

“I am,” Minho said simply, “It’s a good day.”

Jisung laughed and rested his head on Minho’s shoulder. Minho’s body stiffened for a second and Jisung panicked thinking he had overstepped his boundaries, but then Minho relaxed again, resting his own head on top of Jisung’s.

“Why is it a good day?” Jisung asked letting his eyes close again.

“It’s sunny, there’s only a week left of school, I’m here with you,” Minho said quietly.

“Not because your concert is tonight?” Jisung teased, lifting his head and poking Minho’s cheek lightly. Minho slapped his hand away playfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” Minho flushed, and Jisung snickered at his embarrassment.

“I knew it! Well I’m glad one of you is excited, all Hyunjin and Felix have talked about is how nervous they are.”

Minho laughed fondly,

“Haven’t they done things like this before? Why are they so nervous?”

Jisung laughed too,

“Aren’t you nervous?”

Minho shrugged, the playful grin not fading from his lips,

“I know I’ll do well, what is there to be nervous about?”

Jisung gasped,

“You’re so arrogant!”

Minho burst out laughing, his head falling forward, eyes squeezed shut and hands covering his face.

“I was going to credit your song,” Minho said between giggles, “but now I’m not!”

“Hey!” Jisung cried, pulling at Minho’s hands, “I want you to credit my song, compliment me!”

Minho only laughed harder, and Jisung desperately tried to pry the compliment out of him.

“Tell me,” Jisung whined shimmying forwards so they were more face to face, rather than side by side.

Minho grinned annoyingly and allowed Jisung to pull his hands away from his face.

“I’ll tell you, if…”

Jisung nodded enthusiastically, Minho’s hands still in his own.

Minho held the pause, smirking as Jisung shifted impatiently,

“I’ll tell you, if you write the music for my solo piece at the end of the year.”

“Deal!” Jisung exclaimed, even though the statement was complimenting enough.

“Jisung,” Minho smiled softly, “I love your song, and it’s one of the reasons our dance is going to go so well.”

“Ahhh,” Jisung clutched his hand over his heart, falling backwards dramatically. Minho laughed again, watching Jisung roll on the pavement.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Hyunjin,” Minho stood up and held out his hand, “You ready to go?”

Jisung accepted his offer and let Minho pull him up.

“I’ll write you another song, if…” Jisung mimicked Minho’s pause and Minho frowned at him, “you walk with me to school again on Monday.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Minho gasped and Jisung stuck his tongue out teasingly.

“Too bad, it is now.”

Minho sighed dramatically, his head tilting backwards. His hand was still in Jisung’s and he pulled Jisung closer, so their shoulders bumped lightly.

“Fine,” Minho grinned, “It’s a deal, I’ll walk you on Monday.”

Jisung rolled his eyes playfully,

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Minho squeezed his hand, “I don’t have work on Monday mornings, and it would be nice to have some company.”

Jisung squinted, suspicious,

“I don’t trust you.”

Minho stared at him seriously, eyes flicking up and down, taking in Jisung’s body,

“You shouldn’t.”

For a moment, Jisung was frozen to the spot under Minho’s ice-y glare. Despite the warmth of the morning, he shivered.

Then Minho winked, and his entire façade broke.

Jisung let go of Minho’s hand to push him,

“You’re so dumb!”

Minho stumbled back, laughing as Jisung pouted.

Minho’s day was a blur of assemblies and lazy lessons. Jeongin complained the whole break about how he was the only one who still had assignments to hand up, which the others retaliated, complaining that he was the only one who hadn’t done any exams.

Jisung was right, Hyunjin and Felix were nervous, but they were also excited. Felix didn’t stop talking the whole day. All through the break, all through final rehearsals, and according to Seungmin, all through his classes too. Hyunjin was more quietly anxious, tapping his foot, not really eating, Minho understood his reaction more.

Minho was good at hiding when he was nervous. He was good at stilling his movements, relaxing tense muscles, and keeping his expressions casual. He was good at seeming confident, he was good at seeming unbothered.

He had hidden his fear that morning, meeting Jisung like it meant nothing. Walking beside him, pretending he couldn’t feel the butterflies, telling himself that Jisung’s hand in his meant nothing more than friendship. Jokingly flirting, like he knew friends often did, and wondering if anyone would ever see the truth behind his words.

Minho had been terrified, but sometimes the reward was worth the nerves. Seeing Jisung smile at his jokes and feeling the weight of his head on Minho’s shoulder, it had been worth it.

“You seem happy today, Minho,” Chan commented as the two of them wandered to the art building. The final bell had rung, and the majority of the students were heading home, Minho and Chan let the rush of students carry them through the corridors.

“I am,” Minho replied simply, “It’s a good day.”

“Jeongin said you and Jisung walked together this morning.” Once again, Chan did a terrible job of trying to remain casual.

“Yeah, we did,” Minho shrugged, but he could feel his face warming, “turns out we don’t live that far from each other.”

Chan laughed,

“I would never have guessed you two would get this close,” he poked Minho’s pink cheeks, “If I didn’t know better, I might even think you liked him.”

Minho blushed harder and Chan chuckled at the perceived impossibility of his statement.

“We’re not that close,” Minho mumbled, and Chan stopped laughing.

“Minho,” he said more seriously, “I don’t have to tell you I’m happy about it, do it?”

“No,” Minho nodded, “you don’t.”

They walked in comfortable silence for a moment, stopping as they arrived outside the dance studios. Inside they could hear the noise of the student, excitedly preparing for the show.

Chan grinned evilly and Minho immediately prepared himself to not like what was about to come out of Chan’s mouth.

“Jeongin thinks you like him.”

Minho snorted,

“Jeongin thinks if you concentrate hard enough you can read minds.”

Chan nodded, his face showing a sort of amused disappointment at the selective intelligence of their youngest friend.

“That’s true, he does.”

“Smart kid,” Minho said sarcastically, and Chan chuckled again.

“I’ll see you later Chan,” Minho smiled one final time before opening the door and stepping into the dance studio. Chan waved as the door swung back, separating them.

Minho knew Chan had been joking, but the words still hit uncomfortable close.

Minho was too far gone. This was no longer a little crush; Minho was properly infatuated.

Jisung sat on his bathroom floor, tilting his head up and trying not to flinch as Lia brought the eyeliner way to close to his eye. Seungmin crouched beside them watching in interest as Lia carefully ran the pencil along the top of his eyelashes.

“Felix is gonna have a field day with this,” Seungmin said, ruffling Jisung’s hair, the blue still very much prevalent, “It’s supposed to be their night, and you’re gonna steal the spotlight.”

Jisung tried to raise his eyebrows without moving the rest of his face,

“Kim Seungmin, that sounded very close to a compliment.”

“It’s okay,” Lia muttered, the tip of her tongue poking out the left side of her mouth in concentration. Their faces were close enough for Jisung to feel her breath on his skin, “He’s so ugly, we’ve just got to pretty him up to be everybody else’s level.”

Jisung’s mouth fell open in shock as Seungmin burst out laughing.

“That was good,” Seungmin complimented Lia and the pair high fived as Jisung pouted at them.

“Rude,” he mumbled, and Lia patted his cheek,

“Stop being a baby and close your eyes.”

Jisung did as he was told but stuck out his bottom lip sulkily, causing Seungmin to laugh.

“Okay, you can open again,” Lia lifted the pencil and Jisung let his eyes open.

“Am I completely hideous?” Jisung asked teasing.

“Yes,” Lia responded, straight-faced, before breaking into a grin, “No, you look cute.”

“He looks like an e-boy,” Seungmin said flatly, pulling at Jisung’s cheek, “But I mean if that’s what you into,” he groaned as he stood up, “Yeah, I guess he’s cute.”

Lia stood up too, then held a handout to help Jisung up. Jisung had no clue how she could be so stable in her heals.

“You’re not wearing that hoodie,” Lia commented and Jisung pulled at its sleeves, tugging them down until the pink fabric covered his hands.

“Why not,” Jisung pouted.

“I just spent half an hour prettying you up,” Lia picked up her phone off the counter and snapped a picture of him, “You can take three minutes to change into something a little more formal than that.”

Jisung rolled his eyes but still left the bathroom to change. Lia looked gorgeous, as usual, so he supposed he better change as not to embarrass her.

He hated that Tommy’s hoodie still felt like home; he hated that he still gravitated towards it. Jisung entered his bedroom and shut the door behind him. Outside it, he could here Lia and Seungmin chatting comfortably but couldn’t make out the words they were saying. He was glad she had settled in amongst her friends so easily. She made his life so simple.

Jisung pulled off his hoodie and looked around his room. Jisung stepped over the piles of clothes on the floor and opened his wardrobe, which was very empty in comparison to his total amount of clothes. His eyes scanned it, settling on a white shirt, still pressed from the last time he hadn’t worn it. Simple, yet formal.

He fumbled with the buttons, struggling to get them done up. Jisung stared at himself in the mirror. He felt like his dad, dressed like this. Jisung reopened his bedroom door, drawing both Seungmin and Lia’s attention. Jisung quickly shut the door so Lia didn’t see past him into his bedroom.

“Hmm,” Lia tilted her head to the side, talking him in, before pushing past Jisung and entering his bedroom. Seungmin and Jisung both made panicked eye contact before rushing in after her. If Lia was bothered by the mess, she didn’t show it.

“Open the two top buttons,” Lia instructed and Jisung did so, “Where’s your jewellery?”

Jisung stepped over the mess on his floor, trying not to draw attention to it as he did so, opened the right draw and pulled out the heavy box. Lia took it from him and dropped it onto his bed.

“That’s wasn’t light,” she said, almost like she couldn’t quite believe it, “How much do you have?!”

Jisung shrugged, twisting the ring on his hand nervously,

“I guess I have quite a bit…”

Seungmin opened the box, curiosity getting the better of him and was greeted by mounds of silver chains and colourful gems, some glass, some real.

Seungmin whistled,

“Damn Jisung, how much is this shit worth?”

Jisung shrugged again,

“I don’t know, didn’t buy it. Dad gets it for me every time he goes away, his way of apologising. I don’t wear most of it.”

Lia and Seungmin both started digging while Jisung just sat back and watched. He didn’t like looking in that box very often. Despite being a jewellery person over a clothes person, it was just a painful reminder of how often his father was away and his shallow attempts at reimbursing the time he had missed.

The music blasted from every angle possible, filling the hall. Minho felt the bodies of the other dancers press against him in the dark, their skin warm and sticky against his. Stale air filled his lungs as he breathed deeply, preparing himself for the music to fade, and the blind wander onto stage.

Despite all his talk of not being afraid, the nerves had started to creep up on him, his heart beating fast and his fingers fidgeting restlessly. The tie around his sleeve came undone and Minho fumbled with the ribbon, trying to knot it once more, unable to see what he was doing.

To his right, Felix was bouncing nervously on his toes. Minho reached out and grabbed his hand, Felix squeezed it back tightly, not letting go. On his other side, Hyunjin was standing silently, but just as nervous. Minho reached out and held his hand too, which Hyunjin excepted. Minho couldn’t see him in the dark, however, the careful stroke of his thumb on the back of Minho’s hand showed that he was grateful.

The music ended, and the crowd burst into applause, as did the other dancers backstage. Minho let go of his friend’s hands to clap and Felix let out a piercing catcall. Someone in the crowd mimicked it, and to Minho, it sounded like Jisung. The lights flicked to black and the dancers on stage found their way off, hands outstretched to avoid running into anything. There was an exchange of hushed good jobs and good lucks and suddenly Minho was being guided onto the stage, Felix and Hyunjin close behind. An expectant hush fell over the crowd as their team crossed the stage. Minho crouched down feeling for the tape that marked the centre of the stage. His fingers brushed it, slightly too far to the left, he shuffled over and let Felix and Hyunjin use him as a guide. The lights rose, but it took a moment longer before the music started. The three were bathed in a soft blue glow, frozen in their beginning position. It felt like the entire room had inhaled in anticipation, Minho felt like he couldn’t breathe at all.

Jisung and his friends were in no doubt the noisiest out of the audience members. Every performance resulted in a standing ovation and an outrageous amount of cheering and whistling. Jisung pointed out the people they knew to Lia, who would then call out their names, screaming encouragement, despite the fact that she had never met them, and they would have no clue who she was.

The current dance finished, and Jisung heard Felix whistle loudly from backstage. Jisung grinned, placing two fingers to his lips and mimicking the sound back. Seungmin laughed at Changbin who had tried to do the same, however, hadn’t had the same result.

Chan pulled out the program and squinted at it in the low light,

“Is this them?”

The lights rose, bathing the stage, and the three dancers in a soft blue.

“Chan! It’s them, quick!” Jeongin hurried him, as Chan fumbled with his phone struggling to get it out the pocket of his jeans.

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Changbin chanted, most likely stressing out Chan more than it was increasing his speed.

“Is it really them?” Lia asked, her hand circling his wrist lightly.

“I don’t know,” Jisung responded, squinting at the performers.

The blue light had washed out their features, and the distance between him and the stage was too great to rely on their body shape alone.

Then the music started. The song that he knew inside and out, the song that was an extension of himself.

“It’s them,” he breathed, eyes wide with wonder.

They started moving, and Jisung was immediately entranced.

The hush that had already fallen over the audience deepened as Jisung’s own voice filled the auditorium. It bounced off the walls, seemingly emitting from everywhere until Jisung was submerged in the sound, everything, other than the dances, was drowned out.

The dance matched the softness, hopelessness, desperation of the music, portraying the story so clearly, in a way that Jisung had never known to be possible. All three moved beautifully, but Jisung’s eyes were glued to Minho. There was something so effortless in his dance. His feet seemed to barely graze the floor, he looked like he was floating.

It was the truest form of himself that Jisung had ever seen. This was who Minho truly was. This was the first time Jisung has seen him without the mask.

“It’s beautiful…” Lia whispered from beside him. Jisung could only nod, but it was so much more.

It was all the stars in the sky. It was the streetlights reflecting off wet pavement. It was wind, gently carrying a feather to the ground. It was the lover’s first kiss and the dead’s last goodbye. It was every day of Jisung’s life and every moment of Minho’s because it was no longer Jisung’s song alone. It just as equally belonged to Minho now and Jisung was happy to let him have it. It was so much lovelier in his hands.

“Wow…” Chan breathed, holding his phone out in front of him. They technically weren’t allowed to film, but no one had stopped them yet.

“I had no idea they would be this good,” Seungmin’s voice caught in his throat and he coughed awkwardly. Jisung sniffed, Seungmin’s emotions having caused him to realise how his own had built and broken. He swallowed, wiping his eyes before tears threatened to fall.

Minho spun into the centre of the stage and all attention fell on him. Jisung was too far away to see his face, but somehow his emotion showed clearly. He stared out into the audience, reaching out hopelessly as his feet left the ground, Felix and Hyunjin sharing his weight.

It felt like Minho was staring directly at him, even though Jisung knew it would be impossible. He looked so sad, so desperate. Every muscle in his body portrayed his grief and sorrow, tense in despair, begging for help. Jisung wondered what he was reaching out for, and whether it was still within his grasp.

Minho’s hand closed around empty air and he fell to the ground, managing to make the fall look heavy while still landing gracefully. His hopes fell with him, whatever he had been grasping at had disappeared, his last chance to hold it gone. The song ended and the lights faded, Minho still on the ground, giving the audience no time to come to terms with his failure. The shocked silence was deafening, the burst of applause that came seconds after even more so.

Chan stopped recording and jumped up onto his chair, the others quickly following his example. Jisung stayed sitting, stuck to the spot. Lia, who had also gotten up on her chair, held out her hand to him. Jisung stared at her, eyes wide and watering, before accepting. His hand slipped so easily into hers.

“That was fucking incredible!” Changbin screamed, his voice barely audible over the thunderous applause.

“Who let you be that talented!” Seungmin joined in, and soon all six of them were screaming compliments as loud as they could.

The lights rose again, Jisung and his friends still up on their chairs. One by one the groups came out and took their bows, starting with the junior groups and working up to the senior students. Slowly other members of the audience started to stand to, but none of them mounted their seats. Jisung didn’t blame them.

Felix, Hyunjin and Minho entered last. They were glimmering with sweat, grinning widely, glowing, they were the stars.

Jisung whistled loudly and this time he knew they saw him. Minho looked directly in his eyes, his grin wider than it had ever been. Something like pride burst in Jisung’s chest as Minho smiled at him, and as they took their bow.

That had been his song. That was his friends. Jisung’s eyes watered again, but this time it wasn’t due to sadness.

All Minho could feel was joy, pure joy, running through his veins like nectar. His hands connected with Hyunjin and Felix, the happiness running through them, a shared emotion. He flew off the stage once the lights faded again, the cheers imprinted in his brain and his smile so strong it felt like his muscles might be stuck like that for days.

His teacher was buzzing with excitement, pulling each student into a tight hug before attacking the next student. Minho hugged her back, tucking her head under his chin, and whispering his thanks. Out of the students, Minho had the most to be thankful for. Sometimes dance was his lifeline, and sometimes felt like facing death, but in the end, it was the thing that had given him a future.

“Come on,” Felix tugged at his hand, smiling ear to ear, eyes shining “the others are waiting for us!”

Minho grabbed Hyunjin’s hand again and all three of them ran down the hall leading to the rest of the auditorium. Hyunjin laughed as Felix tripped in his rush, jerking the three of them forwards. Minho laughed too; he didn’t think he had ever been this happy.

The auditorium lights had been turned on and the audience felt a lot more real now Minho could see them.

“Is that them there?” Hyunjin asked, pointing over to a group of people Minho couldn’t quite see. Felix rose on his toes to meet Hyunjin’s height, looking over the heads of the now standing audience members.

“That’s them!” he called excitedly, “I can see Lia and Jisung’s blue hair.”

“Lia’s here?” Minho asked surprised.

“Yeah,” Felix responded distractedly, already pushing his way through the crowd Minho and Hyunjin following behind, “We asked her to come-, guys!” Felix cut himself off, crying out to their friends and drawing the groups attention.

There was a rush of bodies that enclosed around the dancers. A group hug, all sweat, stage makeup and endless smiles.

“That was fucking amazing!” Seungmin grinned, reaching up to shake Hyunjin’s shoulders. Hyunjin smiled shyly, his cheeks pink.

“I can’t believe you kept it a secret that long.” Chan shook his head, looking at them proudly.

Minho snorted,

“When have I ever let you see anything before it’s done?”

There was a light cough from behind him and Minho turned around, to see Jisung, his face poking out from behind three of the largest bouquets of flowers Minho had ever seen.

Felix's mouth dropped,

“Jisung! These are huge! How am I meant to outdo this?!”

Jisung shrugged and handed Felix the bright yellow bunch,

“You won’t.”

Seungmin leant over and whispered in Minho’s ear,

“They do this every time one of them has a performance, it has sort of become a competition. They tried to drag me into it too.”

Minho nodded his head in understanding. He liked the idea, it was cute.

Hyunjin started at Jisung as the white roses were forced into his hands,

“Sungie...” words failed him, “They’re stunning.”

Jisung giggled,

“Just like you.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks flared as a mix of sympathy and jealousy rose in Minho’s chest. They both knew Jisung didn’t mean it like _that_ , but that didn’t stop his words from having _that_ effect. Hyunjin brought the flowers to his face, breathing in deeply. Minho had a feeling that those flowers meant so much more to Hyunjin that Jisung had meant them too.

Then Jisung turned to Minho, and the entire world slowed. He was wearing that makeup again, and he looked just as lovely as he had in the picture. He grinned his heart-shaped smile, holding out the final bouquet out to him. Minho’s hands shook as he excepted them, Jisung lightly guiding his fingers around the stem.

“I thought I would get you some too,” Jisung blushed, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. They weren’t as expensive as Hyunjin’s, but I thought they suited you, so…” Jisung, flushed harder, potentially realising that he was rambling, “yeah…”

They were beautiful.

Unlike Hyunjin’s, they weren’t one type of flower, and unlike Felix’s, they were all different colours. They reminded Minho of the wildflowers flowers that used to grow up on the hill at his nan’s town, the one he used to run away too.

“I love them,” Minho smiled, “Thank you.”

Jisung grinned again, and Minho’s heart soared. He wanted Jisung’s smile to be burned into his memory. He wanted to reach out to Jisung, and for his hand to be met with Jisung’s, rather than closing around air. He never wanted to fall because Jisung wasn’t there.

“Hey,” Lia bumped into his side, “that was amazing.”

Minho grinned and bumped her back,

“Thanks,”

“Oh,” Jisung suddenly gasped, “I forgot, Deaun asked me to wish you luck.”

Lia raised her eyebrows at Minho before turning back to Jisung.

“That’s was nice of her,” Minho’s smile suddenly felt fake.

“Yeah,” Jisung frowned, “She said she was coming but wasn’t able to last minute.”

Minho and Lia made eye contact. Something was definitely up, Deaun didn’t just miss things. Minho was too happy to worry about it for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dance has been done! I would love to stay and chat but I need to finish my math and English in the next two hours, and I am nowhere near done. Wish me luck!
> 
> Also, I am so proud of Jisung, I got it is amazing, best birthday present ever. By the way, it was my seventeenth yesterday.


	35. Chapter 35 (Flowers Die)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little different, I hope it doesn't bother anyone. 
> 
> I had my dance concert this weekend and I'm exhausted, but it was fun. Some guy from my school was there to see his girlfriends and it was incredibly awkward because I'm really good friends with his ex who he cheated on. And then I had to spend all weekend with his new girlfriend trying not to insult him. 
> 
> I have exams this week that I need to prepare for now :((((((

Minho was drunk. Felix was drunk. Hyunjin was drunk, but it was okay because they were celebrating. They had turned Hyunjin’s family’s apartment into a mess, but it was okay because they were celebrating. Felix had passed out, his head rested on Minho’s lap, but it was okay because they were celebrating.

Hyunjin had found vases earlier in the night, and their flowers had been carefully displayed on the breakfast bar. Hyunjin kept on looking over at them, sighing softly and resting his head on his hand.

“They’re nice, aren’t they?” Minho commented, his words slurring together.

“They’re very nice,” Hyunjin agreed, fuzzily, staring over at them his eyes shining.

Felix murmured in his sleep, and Minho stroked his hair. The movie they had been watching played quietly in the background, though no one was paying it any attention.

“Jisung was nice for getting them,” Minho said lazily, staring over at his own flowers.

“Jisung’s amazing,” Hyunjin sighed again, finishing his sentence earlier than Minho had expected him too.

Minho was drunk, but not drunk enough to miss Hyunjin’s lovesick smile. Maybe now was the time to have the conversation, when they were drunk enough to use it as an excuse. If Hyunjin said something he regrated, Minho could always pretend he couldn’t remember.

“He looked good tonight,” he said casually, twisting Felix’s hair around his fingers.

“He always looks good,” Hyunjin groaned, tipping his head back, “but yeah he looked good tonight.”

Minho leaned over the arm of the sofa and grabbed a beer can from the little table beside it. He passed it over to Hyunjin who popped it open and took a large gulp, some missing his mouth and dripping down his chin.

“What do you think of Lia?” Hyunjin asked, this head resting on the top of the back cushion of the sofa.

“I like her,” Minho said, “she’s nice.”

“I like her too,” Hyunjin frowned, “I didn’t want to.”

“Why?”

Hyunjin ignored him, asking his own question,

“What do you think of her and Jisung?”

Minho sighed,

“They fit well together.”

Hyunjin sighed too,

“Yeah, they do,” He paused, “Do you think Jisung likes her?”

“I don’t know,” Minho muttered, his heart burning, “he definitely could.”

Hyunjin laughed,

“I don’t see how he couldn’t, Lia’s perfect, I would like her, you know if I liked girls.”

Hyunjin laughed again, it was a cold and hopeless sound. He hadn’t seemed to realise what he had said, and Minho pretended he hadn’t.

“I hope that if he does, she likes him too,” Hyunjin smiled slightly, but his eyes remained sad, “He deserves it. He deserves to be loved, by everyone.”

“Loved by everyone,” Minho repeated.

_Loved by me._

“Loved by everyone,” Hyunjin confirmed, “Because the only person Jisung has ever loved, didn’t love him back.”

_Deaun._

“Who?” Minho asked softly, already prepared to hear the answer.

Hyunjin shrugged,

“I don’t know, it was before I was friends with him, and he’s never told any of us,”

_Deaun._

“But they broke him, Jisung promised himself that he’d never love again, or maybe he still loves them. Either way, he’s never quite recovered,” Hyunjin took another swig of his drink, and giggled for no apparent reason, “I hope he likes Lia because it means he got over them.”

Minho picked up his own drink for the first time in a while. The alcohol tasted bitter on his tongue.

Hyunjin laughed again, but this time it sounded more like he was about to sob,

“I would be so happy for him, but I just wished it was me… Hyung can I ask you something?” Hyunjin whispered. He had tears in his eyes.

“Am I a bad person?”

“What?! Jinnie where is this coming from?” Minho asked, turning Hyunjin’s face so he was looking into Minho’s eyes.

“Am I selfish for loving someone who loves someone else?”

“No, of course not,” Minho whispered, gently lifting Felix’s head off his lap and crawling over to the other side of the sofa where he took Hyunjin into his arms.

“Why does it hurt to see them together like this Hyung?” Hyunjin cried burying himself into Minho’s arms.

“Hyunjin,” Minho asked quietly, “Is Jisung the one you love?” He ran his hand through Hyunjin’s hair, so afraid of the boy’s answer, but already knowing what it was going to be.

Hyunjin nodded under Minho’s hand and Minho’s heart broke into a million pieces.

“He had always said that he would never fall for anyone again.” Hyunjin sobbed. “I spent so long telling myself that he was too hurt for love, but one day he’d be okay, and I would be there for him, but he loves her, and it hurts.”

Minho couldn’t speak,

“I’m sorry” he whispered, his own eyes teary now. He wasn’t sure if Hyunjin had heard him, he wasn’t sure if he wanted him too.

“I want him to be happy.” Hyunjin whimpered slightly. “I really do. I just wish it was me who could make him feel that way. You know, I used to think I had a chance,” he looked up at Minho, his eyes wet and glistening, “He told me that he liked boys once, I don’t think he remembers it, but he never liked me.”

Minho’s heart jumped selfishly. There was a chance Jisung liked boys, there was a chance he could like Minho.

“It’s been four years, Hyung,” Hyunjin whispered, “I’ve loved him for four years, and I still do, but he will never love me in the same way. You know what my new year's resolution was this year?” he continued on before he gave Minho the chance to answer, “It was to move on, and if I couldn’t do it, it was to let him go. I don’t want to love him anymore.”

_Four Years Ago_

_When Hyunjin was thirteen, he moved house. At the time it had felt like the worst thing that could ever happen, starting again felt impossible and leaving everything behind was unbearable. But he was only a kid and in the long run, his opinions had no effect on the decision of his parents. So, before the new school year began, they moved._

_Their new apartment was nice. A “lovely little house and a wonderful investment”, at least that’s what Hyunjin heard his Mum say over the phone to countless family members and friends. Hyunjin didn’t think it was that special. All the walls were white, and the furniture was clean and hard. When he was invited over to the neighbours, he found that all the apartments looked the same too. It didn’t feel special. Hyunjin’s room here was smaller than his old one, they had no garden, and there was no skate park down the road. He had no friends here._

_The holidays were long and lonely. His mum insisted that making friends was going to be easy, but Hyunjin didn’t find it that way. There were a couple other kids living in the little housing block and plenty more living just on the street. Hyunjin was too shy to approach any of them. He would sit on the windowsill, watching them play on the street from above until his breath fogged up the glass._

_Watching them made him feel so lonely. During these times he would message his old friends on his second-hand flip phone, pressing the little numbers until a text was spelt out. These messages were more often lies than truth, lying about his new life, trying to keep his friends interested in him, trying to keep them from forgetting about him. They would always reply, but the responses seemed dismissive like they had already moved passed him. That was the loneliest Hyunjin had ever been, but still, he was too shy to run out and play with the others on the street._

_There was a while, after they moved when Hyunjin’s mum wasn’t working, so she would either stay home with Hyunjin or would drag him around to her new friends. She was pretty and young, as was his father, they were good at making friends, people liked them. Hyunjin was happy to stand in their shadows, be polite and quiet, make them look like good parents, they were good parents. Many of these people she visited had children his age, and when they did, she would always be sure to bring him along. Hyunjin guessed she hated seeing him lonely, and potentially she felt responsible._

_It was always the same. Hyunjin would wear the clothes his mum suggested he did, occasionally accessorising a bit, just to make it seem like he had some of his own opinions. He would sit in the back seat of the car, even when his mum suggested he sit upfront. Hyunjin would lean his head against the window and watch the kids they passed, wondering if that would ever be him. He would follow his mum up to the front door and stand behind her as she knocked. No matter who answered, they all had the same smile, they would always comment on his height and compliment his appearance. Hyunjin would always smile politely and thank them quietly._

_If their kid was a girl, some sort of joke would always be made of how they would look good as a couple. This always made Hyunjin uncomfortable and most often made the girl uncomfortable too. One of them would laugh awkwardly then not another word would be spoken between them._

_If the kid was a boy, they would usually be sent to his room to play video games or something. Hyunjin almost hated his more than sitting at the table in silence. Instead, he would sit quietly on the floor of this kid’s room and watch as he played the game by himself. They would always offer Hyunjin a turn, or even a second controller for himself but Hyunjin would decline, shyly explaining that he would rather just watch. These boys would always judge him. Their eyes would flick from his soft features to his neat clothes and delicate jewellery. They would raise their eyebrows at his quiet demeanour and frown when he flinched at the slightest contact. None of them said anything mean, but none of them offered for him to come around a second time either._

_On the way home Hyunjin’s mum would ask how it went, looking at her son through the rear-view mirror. Hyunjin could never meet her eyes._

_“He was nice.”_

_“Do you think you guys will become friends?”_

_“No, I don’t think so…”_

_When the school year started, Hyunjin had still not made friends and even though he recognised half the people in his class, didn’t speak to anyone on the first day. A boy groaned when he was sat, sharing a desk with him, and Hyunjin’s cheeks burned and his eyes watered. Later in the day, the boy tried talking with him, but Hyunjin was too shy and embarrassed to carry a conversation._

_The next day the boy’s parents had asked if he could swap seats._

_There was another boy in his class who sat by himself. He seemed popular, and Hyunjin couldn’t quite wrap his head around why the boy would choose to sit alone. The other boys would ask him to play sport with them at lunch and would ask if he wanted to join them on group projects._

_None of them asked Hyunjin these things. Actually, they did at the beginning, and Hyunjin only shook his head shyly until they eventually stopped. Maybe he only had himself to blame for his loneliness._

_Hyunjin wasn’t entirely alone. The girls in his class were nice and would invite him to sit with them at lunch or join them after school. Hyunjin knew they probably only liked him for his face but was thankful for their kindness none the less. There was another boy the girls were friends with. His name was Seungmin, and like Hyunjin, he was quiet and shy. Unlike Hyunjin he was good at sport, so often he would go play with the other boys, but when he didn’t, they got along well. Seungmin was quick to open up to Hyunjin, and he slowly got Hyunjin to do the same. Seungmin was sarcastic and smart. The teachers loved him, but they didn’t hear the things he said about them behind their back. Hyunjin thought he was funny, and before he knew it, Hyunjin had a friend._

_It was easier than he had expected._

_At some point during the first term, Seungmin swapped seats, and Hyunjin no longer sat by himself. Seungmin let Hyunjin copy of his work and would take Hyunjin around to his parents’ restaurant after school. Hyunjin brought Seungmin around to his and let him play with all the video games he owned but never seemed to want to play. Seungmin made them look fun, and eventually, Hyunjin would join in instead of just watching. At lunch, they would either sit with the girls, by themselves, or Seungmin would drag Hyunjin over to play sport with the other boys. Hyunjin would sit on the edge and nibble on his snacks, watching Seungmin run and around and play. He knew the other boys talked about him, and he knew that the things they said weren’t always nice, but it honestly didn’t really bother him, as long as Seungmin continued to be his friend._

_There was only one other boy in his year who didn’t join in the lunchtime sport. The same boy who sat alone in class._

_His name was Jisung, Hyunjin learned, and he was confusing, to say the least._

_Seungmin was friends with him, or how close you could get to being friends with him. It wasn’t that he was a bad person, quite the opposite, everybody loved him. It was just that he had seemingly no desire to make any actual friends in their class. He would talk with the others comfortably, would sit next to Hyunjin when watching the sport. People liked him._

_Hyunjin liked him._

_Hyunjin was too shy to talk to him._

_Jisung was pretty, confident, he was good at drawing, he had his ears pierced, just like Hyunjin had, and had given Hyunjin his shark tooth necklace when he had caught Hyunjin staring at it._

_It didn’t take much to have a crush when you were thirteen._

_Hyunjin liked him, but they weren’t friends._

_Jisung was friends with people who went to the other school. There were three schools in the area they lived. The public school, the private school, which is where Hyunjin went and then the other school. In general, the neighbourhood was wealthy, there were the little pockets which were not so much, but for the most part, the people who lived there would be considered rich._

_Hyunjin would consider his family to be rich._

_The people who went to the other school were at a different level. They were the people who lived in the mansions in amongst the luxury apartments. They were the people who drove to school in their sports cars, which they would receive as a sixteenth birthday present from parents who had that sort of money to throw around._

_The kids who went to school their lived a different world to the one Hyunjin experienced. Jisung, as their friend, lived a different life to the one Hyunjin experienced. On Wednesdays, the other school would finish early and a boy and girl would be waiting for Jisung, their bikes leaning against the front gate, sitting on the grass, unbothered by the stain it could leave on their expensive uniforms._

_On these days Jisung was always the first out the door, desperate to go leave with his friends. They were the only people he needed, he didn’t need to make more friends in the class, not when he had them._

_They always looked like they were having fun, off on some sort of adventure that Hyunjin could only dream of having. Jisung would show up the next day, grinning and covered in scratches. He would tell stories of their mishaps with the other boys, who would all listen intently. Hyunjin knew they were all jealous of Jisung, he was too. Jisung’s life sounded so much more interesting than Hyunjin’s._

_When Hyunjin turned fourteen his mum insisted on throwing him a party. Apparently turning fourteen was a big deal. It didn’t feel that way to Hyunjin. He felt like a stranger in his own body, his voice was dropping, his face was changing, his dad said he was becoming an adult and Hyunjin wasn’t ready. Being fourteen felt like something that Hyunjin shouldn’t be. It felt scary, rather than something that should be celebrated._

_Still, he was a good son, and let his mum have her fun. Hyunjin personally invited Seungmin and the girls he was friends with, then let his mum organise the rest. Even if the kids in his year didn’t particularly like Hyunjin, they liked parties and liked each other. Hyunjin could just sit back and watch them, he didn’t need to join in._

_For the week leading to Hyunjin’s party was big talk in the classroom, though no one actually seemed excited for his birthday, more so for the arcade and laser skirmish. On the actual day, which was the Tuesday before the party, only Seungmin and Jisung wished him a happy birthday. Hyunjin has expected Seungmin to, he had even brought a cake for the two of them to share, but Jisung, Jisung he hadn’t predicted at all._

_It wasn’t like Jisung had gone out of his way; it was just a casual,_

_“Oh, happy birthday by the way,”_

_But the fact that Jisung had remembered, the fact that he’d known in the first place… it left Hyunjin thinking about it in the middle of the night._

_Hyunjin hadn’t said anything in response and just stared at him, heart beating slightly too fast. Jisung seemed slightly put out by his lack of reply and left for his desk without another word. Hyunjin was too shy to ask if Jisung was coming to his birthday._

_Jisung did come._

_The party was fun, sort of. It didn’t really feel that much different to school really. Hyunjin felt like an outsider looking in, more than he did part of the fun. Everybody else seemed to be enjoying themselves, and he good some nice presents so it wasn’t completely horrible, mostly. Jisung didn’t talk to Hyunjin the entire time, and Hyunjin didn’t like how bad that made him feel._

_Still, Hyunjin didn’t blame him._

_If he was Jisung, he probably wouldn’t want to talk to Hyunjin either._

_That’s just how it was, and that’s how it stayed._

_Until one day it changed._

_Hyunjin first noticed something had changed when on Wednesday when Jisung didn’t come to school. He always came on Wednesdays, even when he was terribly ill, he would still be there. Hyunjin stared at the back of Jisung’s empty chair, just wondering. No one else seemed bothered, Seungmin even told him he worried too much, but Hyunjin could feel that something was off, something had changed._

_Jisung’s friends were waiting out the front of the school as usual. They were resting up against the wall, the girls head resting in the boy’s lap. Hyunjin couldn’t help but find them intimidating; they were older, rich and pretty, but Hyunjin was also jealous because they knew Jisung far better than he could ever hope to._

_The girl lifted her head to look around and frowned when she couldn’t see Jisung. He was always the first out the door on Wednesday, his absence was an obvious cause for concern._

_“Hey!” the boy called out and Hyunjin jumped. He hadn’t realised they had seen him there, “Have you seen Jisung? You’re in his year right.”_

_“Oh, um…” Hyunjin shrunk in on himself, his eyes wide, “He’s not here today, I think he’s sick.”_

_Something had changed._

_The boy frowned too,_

_“Oh, sorry for bothering you, we hadn’t realised.”_

_Hyunjin nodded shyly before turning away quickly. The sound of worried conversation followed him down the path and to the carpark._

_He wasn’t the only one who thought something was wrong._

_Jisung was back at school on Thursday but Hyunjin’s questions remained unanswered. Jisung didn’t seem sick, at least not physically. He seemed tired, sad, worn out, he looked like he’d given up. Once again Hyunjin was left staring at the back of Jisung’s chair, wondering, only this time it was occupied._

_“Is Jisung okay?” Hyunjin asked Seungmin during break. He picked at his food, not meeting Seungmin’s eyes._

_Seungmin shrugged,_

_“I don’t think so.”_

_Hyunjin frowned,_   
_“Do you know why?”_

_Seungmin frowned too,_

_“No, I don’t.”_

_They both looked up. Jisung was sitting by himself on a bench on the other side of the oval. The watched him kick at the dust, numbly letting the particles settle over his clothing._

_“He looks lonely,” Hyunjin said softly._

_“I think he is,” Seungmin agreed quietly._

_Jisung’s head dropped into his hands. He looked so tiny and vulnerable from this distance._

_Jisung wasn’t okay._

_And he wasn’t for a long time._

_He isolated himself, sitting alone, ignoring people when they talked to him. People started to talk about Jisung the way they did Hyunjin, little whispers, secret insults, exclusion, and alienation. No one understood the way he was feeling, no one but Hyunjin._

_Hyunjin had been lonely too,_

_for a very long time._

_But Hyunjin was too shy to approach him personally, so he asked Seungmin to._

_First Seungmin invited Jisung to join them at his family restaurant. Jisung seemed familiar with the place, and Hyunjin was left wondering how many times this had happened before._

_Slowly Jisung became a stable in their group and eventually started coming over to Hyunjin’s too. Hyunjin’s mum was thrilled that he had made a new friend, and Hyunjin was grateful that Jisung might not feel as lonely now._

_Seungmin and Jisung liked playing FIFA when they were at Hyunjin’s and despite being terrible, Hyunjin was happy to play along._

_“Hang on,” Seungmin put his controller down on the coffee table, “don’t start without me.” He left for the kitchen, no doubt to grab some sort of snack for the three of them to share._

_“We won’t,” Hyunjin called after him, crouching by the TV trying to get it to work. Jisung just nodded quietly from the couch, fiddling with his controller._

_Hyunjin pulled out the box and started blowing dust out of the ventilator. The apartment was silent other than the low hum of the air conditioning and the quiet clinking of Seungmin in the kitchen. Hyunjin’s own breathing felt too loud, and he could feel Jisung’s gaze on the back of his head._

_Hyunjin turned the box off and on again._

_“What’s your issue with me?” Jisung asked quietly from behind him._

_Hyunjin turned around sharply,_

_“What?”_

_“Why do you hate me?” Jisung tucked his knees up to his chin, “Why do you think you’re better than me?”_

_Hyunjin stared at him,_

_“I don’t,” he stuttered finally, putting the box back in its spot with shaking hands._

_Jisung’s face remained blank,_

_“It’s okay, you don’t have to lie. I get it, you’re pretty, you’re rich, I’m a loser who has no friends. I don’t expect you to like me.”_

_“I thought we were your friends,” was all Hyunjin could manage. His hands closed around the edge of his shirt._

_It was Jisung’s turn to stare,_

_“What? But you never talk to me, you never said thank you when I gave you the shark necklace.”_

_Hyunjin reached under his shirt and pulled the necklace out. The tread had worn thin due to constant wear._

_Jisung’s mouth parted,_

_“You still wear it?”_

_“I’m sorry I never thanked you for it,” Hyunjin whispered, “You seemed too cool to want to talk to me.”_

_“Oh…” Jisung fiddled with the joystick on the controller, “I’m sorry…”_

_“It’s okay,” Hyunjin smiled, “I’m sorry too, so do you want to be friends?”_

_Jisung smiled too,_

_“Yeah, I would like that.”_

_Hyunjin grinned,_

_“Good, me too.”_

_Seungmin came back into the room, a bowl of M &Ms in his left hand and a packet of gummies in the other. Jisung swept their homework off the table to make room for them. Hyunjin stood up and threw himself onto the couch._

_“You ready to go?” Seungmin asked, grabbing his controller again._

_Hyunjin nodded. Jisung just shrugged and stuffed a handful of gummies in his mouth._

_And that was it._

_Hyunjin and Jisung were friends now._

_It was such a tiny moment, only long enough for the game to load and for Seungmin pour sweets out a packet. The day continued, not letting Hyunjin extend the moment for any longer._

_Yet it was the beginning, the beginning of the rest of his life._

_It was the beginning of his love for Jisung, proper love, that lasted._

_It was the beginning of all the stolen glances and late-night conversation. Of Hyunjin’s hand straying in Jisung’s for too long. Of joking flirting that hurt more than it made him laugh._

_It was the beginning of Hyunjin’s heartbreak._

_When Hyunjin was young, when he still lived in his old house, his mum used to take him down the lake where they would spend hours laying on the grass, watching the clouds. In the spring the entire hill would burst out in flowers and Hyunjin would run around picking handfuls to bring back home. For a couple of days their house would be filled with them, but as beautiful as they were, they died quickly. Hyunjin never knew if he should feel guilty for bringing the day of the death closer, but the flowers in the field didn’t last for much longer, and their presence in the house made him smile._

_Flowers die but it’s okay because while they live, they are beautiful._

_His love for Jisung was like the flower in the vase, never meant to be, destined to die, but lovely while it lived._

Hyunjin laughed sadly, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder. Minho rubbed his back, softly.

_I don’t want to love him anymore._

Minho wanted to love Jisung forever. He wanted to hold Jisung close, keep him to himself. He wanted to have Jisung by his side until the day he died. He wanted to love Jisung in all the ways he wasn’t allowed, and the universe prevented.

But Minho knew he could never have that, because Jisung wasn’t his, just like he wasn’t Hyunjin’s.

Still, he was too selfish to let Jisung go, because sometimes a light illuminates your world, and it would hurt too much to watch it go out.

Minho swallowed,

“Jinnie?”

Hyunjin hummed to show he had heard.

“Would it be okay…” Minho paused, it felt like he couldn’t breathe. The alcohol that was encouraging his actions did little to numb his fear, “Would it be okay if I liked him?”

Hyunjin didn’t lift his head from Minho’s shoulder,

“Do you?”

His lack of surprise caught Minho off guard but was comforting. Hyunjin’s warmth stayed by Minho’s side and suddenly it felt like nothing Minho said could ruin their friendship.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Hyunjin sighed and hugged Minho a little tighter,

“Then I wish you luck. He’s heartbroken and that makes him a heartbreaker. He will always run, and sometimes that hurts the most. Loving him will cause you to cry just as much as it makes you smile.”

  
Minho couldn’t reply. He just curled his body into Hyunjin’s and listened to the gentle sound of Felix’s breathing.

_We both know he will never love us, and you were brave enough to let go. I don’t ever think I will be able to, because even though I know holding on will undoubtedly destroy me, his hands are too welcoming for me to drop them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it swapping to Jinnies perspective wasn't horrible. I thought it was important to explore it. I also wanted to mention that during these flashback/memory sections they aren't explaining it, it's all in their head. So Lia doesn't know the details of Minho's fight with Chris and Minho doesn't know Hyunjin's past. I hope that was already obvious but I just thought I would check.
> 
> I have to ask my boss for a week and a half off work and I'm nervous...
> 
> Okay byeeeeeeee xxxx


	36. Chapter 36 (… being hurt)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is over! For me at least! I mean that I have to go back next year, but this year is over.

Minho woke up with his pounding head resting against Hyunjin’s sleeping chest and the weight of everything he had admitted to on his shoulders. Felix had already woken, and Minho could hear him rummaging around in the kitchen.

Sunlight streamed through the large windows, lighting up the particles of dust in the air and falling on Hyunjin’s face. There was something so vulnerable about him and Minho’s heart broke a little more just looking at him. Hyunjin didn’t deserve this.

Minho sat up, groaning as every muscle in his body complained, still sore from the day before. Hyunjin moved underneath him and Minho lifted his weight.

“Morning,” Hyunjin groaned, his eyes blinking open.

“Morning,” Minho stood up quickly, not making eye contact.

“Minho…” Hyunjin started nervously, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Minho picked at his thumbnail. They both knew where this conversation was going but were too afraid to be the one to break the silence.

In the end, neither of them did.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Felix poked his head in. Both glared at him, the quiet noise causing sharp pains to run through their heads.

“Oh good, you’re up, breakfast is ready,” Felix grinned happily, seemingly unbothered by their dark faces.

“You’re an angel Lix,” Hyunjin called after him as Felix turned to return to the kitchen.

Felix waved his hand dismissively,

“There’s aspirin and water on the table.”

“You would think it was his house,” Hyunjin joked as Minho helped him up.

Felix ushered them into seats at the dining table, it felt far too formal for what it was. An impressively large stack of pancakes sat in the middle, alongside various topping that Felix must have dug out of Hyunjin’s cupboards somewhere.

Hyunjin reached out to take one, but Felix blocked his hand before he could.

“Pill and water first,” he said sternly, and Minho laughed at Hyunjin’s betrayed face.

Hyunjin placed the pill on the tip of his tongue, making a show of it, before taking a large gulp of water, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“All of it.”

Hyunjin wrinkled his nose at Felix’s words but downed the rest of the glass.

Minho excepted the cup that was pressed into his own hands, suddenly realising how dry his mouth was. Felix watched him sternly he swallowed his own pill and started to sip on his own water.

“Good boys,” Felix patted their heads, and Minho rolled his eyes, “I’m gonna go shower while you eat.”

“Aren’t you going to?” Hyunjin called as Felix started down the hall. His voice sounded significantly less raspy than when he had first woken.

“Already have,” Felix responded over his shoulder, “I don’t need to sleep in until twelve like you boys do.”

Minho raised his eyebrows.

_It was that time already?_

Hyunjin rolled his eyes behind Felix’s back.

“I don’t think that boys had a hangover once in his life,” he whispered to Minho, leaning in like it was some sort of secret, “he thinks he’s superior because of it.”

Minho snorted,

“Doesn’t mean he can hold it; didn’t he fall asleep after like three shots?”

Hyunjin snorted too.

“I can still hear you!” Felix cried from the hall and both Minho and Hyunjin broke into laughter.

Hyunjin poured orange juice into their empty water glasses as Minho served a pancake onto his plate and two onto Hyunjin’s.

“Minho,” Hyunjin started again, screwing the top back on the bottle.

“We need to talk, don’t we?”

Hyunjin nodded, not making eye contact.

“Hyunjin!” Felix interrupted from the hallway, “Your towels have moved.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes at Minho,

“They’re in the next cupboard over now. Mum re-organised last weekend.”

“Tell your mum that she needs to let me know when she moves things!”

“I’ll invite you over next time she cleans out the cutlery, then you can be part of the decision-making process,” Hyunjin called back sarcastically and Minho snorted.

There was the sound of cupboards closing and opening, then a happy little gasp as Felix found them.

Minho took a bite of pancake as they waited until the bathroom light turned on, and the door was shut. They were good, Felix had gotten better.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Hyunjin whispered once he was sure Felix was out of earshot.

Minho looked up from his pancakes, eyes wide with panic.

Hyunjin’s eyes widened too,

“Oh, um, never mind, I can’t remember what you said anyway.”

Minho sighed,

“No, it’s okay, I meant it.”

Hyunjin nodded,

“I meant what I said too, that I would be happy for you. I’m not going to fight you for him, he’s not an object. Anyway, he likes you in a way he never did me,” he looked over his shoulder checking if Felix was back, “It makes me think you have a chance.”

Minho laughed quietly,

“I don’t have a chance, he’s not over them,” he barely controlled himself from saying Deaun’s name, “and even if he was, he likes Lia.”

“Has he told you that?” Hyunjin asked, pouring more maple syrup on his pancakes.

“No…” Minho mumbled sheepishly.

“There you go, you have a chance, more than I did anyway.”

“Don’t give me false hope,” Minho grumbled, stabbing a piece of pancake.

Hyunjin laughed and patted Minho’s shoulder. Minho felt the fabric stick to the little maple syrup on his fingers.

They fell silent. The distant sound the shower continued in the background. Minho sipped his orange juice.

“I think you would be good for him,” Hyunjin said finally, “You break him out of his shell, you make him less afraid.”

Minho swallowed,

“He’s afraid?”

Hyunjin nodded, putting his fork back down onto the table,

“Yeah, he is. He doesn’t like showing it, but he is.”

“Oh.”

Hyunjin shrugged,

“You make it better though.”

Minho hummed, unsure of how to react.

There was a muffled crash, then a groan from the bathroom as Felix knocked over the shampoo bottles. Hyunjin chuckled and pulled another pancake onto his plate, using it to soak up the thick layer of syrup that sat on the dish.

“Hyunjin,” Minho finally asked, “What’s he afraid of...?”

“Lots,” Hyunjin responded casually, flipping the pancake over, “heights, the dark, swans… being hurt.” He looked up, making eye contact with Minho his fingers still dripping with maple syrup. It felt like a warning.

“Being hurt?” Minho’s voice sounded weak, even in his own ears.

Hyunjin didn’t break eye contact.

“Minho, I know you don’t have bad intentions, and that’s why I’m gonna support you,” he sighed, “but I will always take his side, no questions asked. If I hear you hurt him, that’s the end of this.” Hyunjin glared down at him and Minho was once again reminded of how dangerous he could look.

“I would never hurt him,” Minho whispered feebly.

_Fuck, what if I hurt him… I would never, but aren’t I good at that?_

Minho was good at hurting people.

“I can’t take your word on that, sorry,” Hyunjin shrugged, “Minho, I love you, I just love him more, you get it right?”

Minho took another bite of pancake. The gentle sound of the shower stopped, and there were various bumping noises as Felix moved around in the bathroom.

“Yeah, I get it,” Minho leant back in his chair, “You don’t need to worry, there’s no way he’ll let me get close enough to hurt him anyway.”

Hyunjin tilted his head to the side thoughtfully,

“I wouldn’t be so sure… He’s more vulnerable than you would think.”

Minho frowned at him,

“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”

Hyunjin laughed and cut another piece of his pancake off, not offering anymore comfort, or advise.

Minho drained the rest of his orange juice and placed it on top of his empty plate. Hyunjin watched as Minho stood up and pushed his chair in.

“Say bye to Felix for me.”

“What?” Hyunjin questioned, not taking his attention off his food, “Are you not staying?”

“Can’t,” Minho grabbed his schoolbag off the kitchen bench, “I start work in an hour, and I have to go home first.”

“Fine,” Hyunjin whined, tipping his head back, “You work too much.”

Minho laughed, swinging the bag over his shoulder,

“You talk too much.”

“Minho!” his manager called through the door, “there’s a boy here for you.”

Minho dropped the chip packet he was holding into the cart and stood up, his knees cracking as he did. It was amazing, the fact that Changbin had been coming in for over a year and his manager still hadn’t learnt his name.

“Changbin, I'm not allowed to give you any more food, if you want it, you’ll have to pay- Oh,” Minho stopped in his tracks. It wasn’t Changbin.

“Hi,” Jisung waved from the opposite side of the counter, clutching a packet of gummy worms with both hands.

“Hey…” Minho stuttered, taking the packet as Jisung handed it over, “I wasn’t expecting you to visit.”

Jisung shrugged,

“I hadn’t planned on; I was worried you wouldn’t be working.”

Minho hadn’t realised that Jisung knew where he worked.

He picked up a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses off the rack and tried them on. Minho laughed quietly as Jisung checked out his reflection in the strip of mirror running down the side of the rack.

“I’m glad you were.” Jisung looked up to Minho, his mouth forming the same heart shape.

“And I’m glad you stopped by; it’s been a slow day.” Minho scanned the sweets, applying the staff discount when Jisung wasn’t looking.

“Quiet?” Jisung asked, putting the sunglasses back carefully.

Minho nodded,

“I like it better that way.”

A car alarm went off in the street, and Minho and Jisung both turned to look out the window. There was a moment where no one did anything before a woman sprinted out the hairdressers opposite holding her keys up.

Minho laughed lightly, Jisung didn’t.

“You okay?” Minho asked, the smile fading from his lips.

“We didn’t get through to the next stage of the competition,” Jisung smiled up at him, his eyes dark and sad.

“Oh,” Minho’s heart dropped, “Oh, Jisung, I’m so sorry.”

Jisung shrugged,

“The radio station rang Chan this morning to let us know. The teams that got through will be publicly announced this afternoon.”

He sighed again, his voice breaking slightly, and it was obvious that he was more upset than he was letting on.

“God! It was so fucking close. Twenty votes Minho, twenty!”

Jisung laughed in frustration, tilting his head back, fists forming by his side.

Minho didn’t know what to say.

“That fucking sucks man.”

Jisung sighed again, controlling his anger,

“It was our fault really; we shouldn’t have gotten that ahead of ourselves. Making the album was a bit hopeful,” he looked up as if expecting Minho to agree with him, “Like I wasn’t expecting to wind, but,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I was hoping for more than this.”

“Do the others know?” Minho asked. Shit, he was terrible at consoling people.

“Chan and Changbin? Yes. The rest,” Jisung buried his face in his hands, “No, it’s too embarrassing.”

“Oh Baby,” the name slipped out before Minho realised what he had said. If Jisung was bothered by it, he didn’t show it, “There’s no reason for you to be embarrassed. Your songs were fantastic, you deserved to get further, but this is just how things are, even if it sucks.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Jisung pulled his wallet out his back pocket, “I guess I just feel guilty for assuming we would do better- Hey, I thought these were more than that?” He interrupted himself, catching sight of the price displayed on the register.

“You get a discount,” Minho said while Jisung pulled out his card.

“Why,” Jisung snorted, “because you feel sorry for me?”

“Because you’re cute,” Minho winked dramatically and Jisung laughed.

“Minho,” his manager came around from out the back, his bag sung over his shoulder, “I’m off now, Maria’s gonna get here early so you can leave when she does.”

Minho nodded, handing Jisung back the sweets.

They were both silent, watching his manager leave and waiting until the door had swung shut.

“You here for much longer?” Jisung finally asked.

Minho looked up at the clock displayed on the wall above them,

“Another half an hour then I’m out, less if Maria’s gonna get here early.

“You got dance today?”

“Not until this evening. What about you? You got anything planned?”

Jisung bit his lip,

“I’m supposed to go around to Chan’s, but I don’t think I can face him.”

Minho hummed sympathetically.

Chan had the most to lose by not getting anywhere with music, they all knew it. Chan had sacrificed so much to make it in the music industry. He could understand Jisung’s guilt even though he knew that there was no way Chan would blame it on him.

“If you have time to hang around for a couple of minutes, I’ll…” Minho trailed off, his face suddenly felt warm. Jisung seemed to understand anyway.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this one is a bit shorter. It kinda feels like nothing happens.
> 
> Where I live hasn't had any corona cases since like July, but we had a small outbreak of like 20 and then the whole city went into a six-day lockdown because someone had a lot of direct contact with people. BUT it turned out that they lied to the government officials and now were all allowed back out again. Which means that I need to go to work again and I have no clue how I'm gonna get there.
> 
> So I didn't get to watch the concert live due to work and have known that I wasn't going to be able to since it was announced. You don't understand how jealous I am of people who got to watch it. I've searched the internet and watched as many clips as I could find, but it's not the same :( I've compromised with myself by putting some money away so I can save up for Stray Kids next comback, and to go see them in person when restrictions drop. But from what I've seen the concert was amazing. I am so proud of them and I can fully understand why they were so excited. They did such an amazing job, as did all the staff organising it and the dancers. I really enjoyed the dancer's performance, I feel like they have a good relationship with SKZ, they look like they are having fun.


	37. Chapter 37 (I’m sorry about me then)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, I thought that I would be quicker updating now I'm on holiday, but guess what! I'm not! On another note, I'm going camping from the 12th until the 24th and won't have any internet connection the whole time. I'll try to update the day before I leave and have the next chapter ready to go when I get back, but I can't make any promises. I also have to finish making all my Christmas presents before then too, so its gonna be a busy week.

Jisung sat on top of the counter and ripped his packet open. Minho watched him, unsmiling, but in a way, Jisung had come to learn that didn’t necessarily mean he was unhappy. He held out the packet, offering a gummy to Minho, but Minho declined.

He disappeared behind the staff-only door for a moment, leaving Jisung alone in the main part of the shop. He put a worm in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue before swallowing. The inside of Jisung’s throat felt weird, a little too tight compared to usual. Not getting though had taken a bigger hit to his ego than he wanted to admit. His whole body felt slightly numb with humiliation and guilt. Chan had tried to tell them that it wasn’t really their fault and that a big portion of competitions like this was existing fan base, but it felt more like an excuse rather than an explanation.

As much as Jisung liked to joke that Chan was acting like his parent, he had slowly become a father figure to him. Jisung would never tell him, but he guessed that that was the effect of his dad being gone so often. The only thing worse than a parent being angry, is them being disappointed, and the only thing worse than that, was them pretending not to be.

Chan’s false smile when he said that it was okay was burned into Jisung’s brain. Jisung’s bottom lip had wobbled, and Chan had wrapped his arms around him. Jisung hated that he had been the one to be comforted when it was Chan who he had failed.

Jisung stretched a worm out with his hands, not really paying attention to what he was doing. Minho pulled a trolly, stacked with boxes of chips, out from the back. The trolly wheels squeaked, Minho didn’t seem bothered by the noise. He looked up at Jisung, his eyes holding some unspoken question that Jisung didn’t quite understand. Jisung smiled, just so Minho didn’t worry. The gummy worm in his hands snapped; Minho stared at it.

“Are you okay?” Minho finally asked, and Jisung realised that had been the question in his eyes.

“Are we ever?” Jisung joked, but there was an underlying truth behind his words. He grinned, hoping Minho didn’t take him too seriously.

Minho grinned too, not quite laughing, but amused. He shook his head and picked up the first packet, not looking as he placed it on the shelf. Relief flooded through Jisung’s veins like fire, numbing his nerves.

Jisung ate the stretched gummy worm. It didn’t taste different from any other.

The quiet of the shop was slightly unnerving, but Minho seemed at ease, which made Jisung feel comfortable too. Minho continued to stack the chips, Jisung kicking his feet as he watched from on top of the counter. Jisung had a feeling that Minho’s manager wouldn’t be too thrilled about his sitting there, but Minho hadn’t told him to move, so Jisung didn’t really care. Occasionally Minho would look over his shoulder at him, and Jisung would smile or pull a face. It felt good to make Minho laugh, even if he turned his head so that Jisung couldn’t see.

“What’s your favourite flavour?” Minho asked still facing the shelf, breaking the silence. Jisung didn’t know if he was talking about the chips or the gummies.

“I’m not too fussy,” Jisung shrugged, “I’m pretty good with any,” he wrinkled his nose, “but don’t like the orange ones.”

Orange was a gross flavour if you asked Jisung. It reminded him of the vitamins his mum used to give him when he was younger and the way they made his tongue tingle.

Minho laughed,

“Yeah, I don’t like barbeque either,” he threw a packet of chips at Jisung, who only just caught it. The bright orange packaging was difficult to look at. He turned it over, reading the flavour printed on the front, _barbeque_.

Minho had been talking about the chips.

Jisung threw it back. The packet collided with the back of Minho’s head, emitting a light thud. Jisung didn’t like barbeque chips either. Minho turned around, his mouth closed tightly, trying to stop himself from laughing, or at least hide the fact that he was from Jisung. Jisung stuck out his tongue and Minho rolled his eyes playfully.

“Well, what flavours do you like?” Minho put the barbeque chips back on the shelf, the orange blending in easily with the other bright colours.

Jisung shrugged, although Minho had his back turned again and wasn’t able to see.

“You pick one and I’ll agree.”

Minho laughed, though Jisung saw red creep up his neck under his skin.

“Even if I’m boring and pick original?”

“Oh,” Jisung let his face fall as Minho looked back over his shoulder, “I mean I guess so.”

Minho laughed again. Jisung had only been joking, and he could tell that Minho knew. Truthfully Jisung liked plain salt, it was just more entertaining to make fun of Minho’s choices.

“What if I pick sour cream and chives?” Minho asked, hand stilling on the light green packet.

Jisung nodded this time,

“A man of taste I see.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but once again, Jisung could see that he was amused. He threw the packet over at Jisung again. This time he caught it easily.

“They won’t notice if one goes missing,” Minho teased and Jisung laughed.

“Ooohh look at you Minho! Breaking the rules, being a bad boy!”

Minho blushed harder.

They both knew that Minho had done much worse things, but the joke still landed.

Jisung smiled fondly at his turned back. Minho really was a different person to Jisung’s first impression. He was soft and easily embarrassed. His first instinct was to care for others, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn’t. Though there was still that part of him, the part that was dangerous and wild, the part that was more immediately obvious. It was all still there, and it was all part of him, just it wasn’t all of him like Jisung had originally expected.

The back door to the shop opened, Jisung could hear it from somewhere behind the staff-only door. Jisung turned to look, but Minho didn’t react. A moment later, the door opened, and a girl walked in, mid-way through tying her hair up. She had a tattoo of a bee on her neck, just peeking out of the collar of the uniform.

Her and Minho completely ignored each other, Minho not looking up from his stacking and her not bothering to great him. Her eyes flicked to Jisung, who sheepishly lowered himself from the bench, holding both the gummy worms and chips against his chest.

“Who are you?” Her voice was higher than Jisung was expecting, she almost sounded scared, despite her defensive posture. It put Jisung on edge too.

He swallowed nervously,

“I’m Jisung…”

“He’s with me,” Minho said, standing up, his back still turned. His voice was harsh and sharp. Jisung could see the tension in his shoulders. The girl tensed up too.

“Oh.”

“Can I go now?” Minho asked, but it seemed more like a statement than a question. The girl nodded, but Minho didn’t look at her to get her answer.

“Let’s go Jisung.”

This was the Minho that Jisung had first known. He was the one who scared people. He was the one that Jisung was still somewhat afraid of.

Minho led the way out the back door, Jisung following close behind. He felt the eyes of the girl follow him until they were out of sight. He heard her sigh, maybe in relief, maybe in something else.

“Sorry about her,” Minho sighed too, his voice soft again.

Jisung stared as Minho clocked off and unhooked his bag from behind the door.

“She didn’t do anything,” Jisung finally managed.

“I’m sorry about me then.”

Jisung continued to stare.

Minho smiled at him lightly, his eyes had lost all their harshness.

“What?” Jisung stuttered.

“I’m sorry that I don’t like people. I know that I just made you uncomfortable.”

Jisung swallowed, Minho felt too close in the confined corridor. Minho’s eyes dropped when Jisung didn’t reply.

“Let’s just go,” Jisung tried to smile reassuringly. Minho smiled back weakly.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Minho watched Jisung walk beside him. The younger boy talked easily, walking in time with Minho, but Minho couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness in the air. He hadn’t missed the way Jisung had looked at him, and he couldn’t forget it easily.

Jisung had looked at him like he had before they were friends.

He had looked at him like he was afraid; like he was a monster.

Didn’t Jisung know that who he was? Or had Jisung grown to think he was someone else?

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked suddenly.

Minho broke out of his worried daydreams,

“Sorry, what was that?”

Jisung laughed awkwardly,

“I asked if you were okay?”

“Are we ever?” Minho tried to joke, but Jisung didn’t laugh. Instead, he reached out and squeezed Minho’s hand. It was comforting.

“Where do you want to go?” Jisung asked finally, letting Minho’s hand drop. Minho swallowed.

“You pick somewhere, and I’ll agree,” Minho quoted Jisung from earlier, pulling at the edge of his collar. The heavy fabric was too hot under the summer sun.

“Ahh,” Jisung whined, pushing Minho’s arm lightly, “Stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not Baby,” Minho whined back. Once again, the name came easily, though this time Jisung raised his eyebrow at it.

“ _Baby_?” Jisung stopped walking.

“Oh,” Minho stopped too, “Are you bothered by it? You didn’t seem so before?”

“I’m not bothered- wait you called me that before?”

Minho flushed,

“Yeah, sorry, just before in the shop, I thought you noticed.”

Jisung re-adjusted the straps of his bag. Inside, Minho could hear the chip packet crinkling.  
“I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Minho wrung his hands together awkwardly, “I’m sorry.”

Jisung smiled at him again, only this time it was a proper smile,

“Don’t be sorry,” Jisung started walking again, “I was just surprised, that’s all,” he looked over his shoulder at Minho, “you don’t seem the type for pet names.”

Minho hunched his shoulders.

“You’re pouting,” Jisung teased.

“I am not!” Minho whined although they both knew he was.

Jisung laughed and reach over to pat his head,

“You can call me baby if I can call you sweetheart.”

Minho cringed,

“That’s so cheesy,” he groaned and Jisung snorted,

“And baby isn’t?”

Minho rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. It wasn’t an argument was likely to win, especially when the name fell of Jisung’s lips so nicely, and just the idea made his heart skip a beat.

_He doesn’t mean it like that._

The reminder did little to calm the pace of his heart.

“Are you coming Sweetheart?” Jisung asked, beginning to walk again, “Or are you just gonna stand there?”

Minho rolled his eyes again,

“Jeongin’s never gonna shut up about this,” he groaned and Jisung laughed.

“You started it, Sweetheart.”

Minho started it, because calling Jisung baby felt natural, because his feelings ran deeper than anyone could guess and deeper than he would like to admit. At least this way he could play the name off as a joke. No one seemed to mind as long as he pretended, he was joking.

“Come on!” Jisung called, “Lia showed me a great ice cream place near where Chan lives. If we hurry, we can get there before they close.”

Minho started to jog to catch up with him. How much sugar did this boy need?

Eating ice cream was definitely not the best idea, especially when he had a competition approaching and he had been doing a questionable job of sticking to his diet. Still, little things like ice cream excited Jisung, and Minho would do anything to see him smile.

So, he jogged up until he was level with Jisung.

“Won’t it offend Mrs Park if you get ice cream somewhere else?”

Jisung grinned and tapped the side of his nose,

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Besides, hers will always be the best.”

Minho laughed, and linked his arm with Jisung’s,

“As you wish Baby.”

Jisung finished his ice cream with a satisfied sigh and slumped back against the bench. Minho snickered and sipped his juice. Jisung glared, despite the fact he knew there was no ill intent behind it. Behind them, Jisung could hear children playing in the park, but the noise was far from annoying.

“Was it good?”

Jisung nodded happily, licking his lips for dramatic effect,

“Very.”

“Better than Mrs Park’s?” Minho smirked, and Jisung could tell that he was purposely teasing him.

“Really Minho?” Jisung asked, feigning disappointment, “I thought you would know that no one’s ice cream is better than hers.”

Minho just shrugged and took another sip of his juice.

The sun’s power had started to lessen through the afternoon, and now it was comfortable to sit under its rays. Jisung closed his eyes and angled his face towards it, its warmth was soothing on his skin. He could feel Minho watching him but wasn’t bothered by it. He was comfortable with Minho.

A couple of minutes of relaxed silence passed. It felt like they were in their own bubble; like time had stopped. Jisung breathed in deeply, letting the air back out in a content sigh. Beside him, Minho shuffled his body, so their arms were pressed together. Jisung didn’t open his eyes.

“Jisung,” Minho said softly, “Chan’s ringing you.”

Jisung blinked his eyes open. Their bubble had been popped.

Minho smiled apologetically, holding Jisung’s phone up, where Chan’s name lit up the screen. The phone wasn’t making any noise and Jisung had both put it on silent and turned the vibrate on when Jeongin wouldn’t stop calling him about some assignment that he needed to do and Jisung had done the previous year.

Jisung sighed and Minho handed over the device.

“Hi Hyung,” Jisung put the phone against his ear.

“Hi Sung, are you still coming?” Chan asked loudly enough to cause Jisung to bring the phone away from his ear. In the background, Jisung could hear the song that they were working on and Changbin shouting something indistinguishable.

“Shit, is it that time already? Fuck, I’m sorry Hyung, I got carried away, I won’t be long.”

Chan laughed fondly,

“Don’t rush, we’re fine here, but would you be able to pick up some coffee on your way? I swear that I’m gonna… I don’t know, I just need caffeine.”

Jisung laughed,

“Convenience store okay again? I’m not becoming bankrupt from buying you fancy ones.”

On the other end of the line, Jisung could hear both Chan and Changbin laugh. Beside him, Minho chuckled too.

“Fair enough, the convenience store is fine.”

Jisung pulled the phone away from his ear and covered the speaker with his hand,

“You want to come sweetheart?”

Minho shrugged,

“Dance isn’t for a bit; I’ve got nothing better to do.”

Jisung grinned.

“Who are you talking to?” Chan asked loudly, “Are you with Lia?”

Minho bit his hand to stop himself from laughing. Jisung brought the phone back to his ear, blood rushing to his face. He didn’t realise Chan could hear him.

“Ahh, no,” he said awkwardly, “I’m with Minho Hyung.”

“Oh,” Chan sounded embarrassed too. Jisung cringed, wanting to be swallowed into the bench.

“What’s with the nickname?” Changbin asked, his voice sounding slightly distant and Jisung cringed harder. He hadn’t realised that Changbin could hear him too. Chan must have him on speaker.

“Inside joke,” Jisung offered, and he could basically see Changbin’s raised eyebrow thought the phone.

Minho leaned over Jisung’s lap, he smiled innocently at Jisung, before speaking directly into the device.

“Hi guys.”

“Oh, hi Minho.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Jisung's blush deepened with the smirk in Changbin’s voice.

Minho laughed,

“It doesn’t work when you say it Changbin.”

Both of the boys on the other end of the call burst out laughing, and Jisung pushed Minho away before he could say anything else.

“Okay, see you in a second.” Jisung hung up, not giving the others the time to say anything else.

“They’re never gonna shut up about that,” He whined, turning to Minho, who shrugged, not displaying an ounce of sympathy.

“You’re blushing,” Minho commented, lifting his hand to Jisung’s face.  
Jisung pouted,

“You’re embarrassing me.”

Minho’s hand was cool on his skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have to drive the car in the city, and I don't think my dad understands how frightened I am. He's pretty desperate for me to get my licence, but driving terrifies me. I've got 40ish hours now and need another 35 so I'm getting there slowly, but every time I'm in the car I start to panic, which isn't good or safe. He just thinks I'm being dramatic and that I just need to get over it. 
> 
> The Minho vlive situation is pissing me off, but there are enough people already explaining and stating their opinions that you don't need me to as well. I'm pretty sure you can all see how much I love him and how caring of a person he is.


	38. Chapter 38 (That’s just Minho)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody, it's been a minute.
> 
> I may have messed up and not gotten the chapter done before we went away, and then I didn't bring my laptop with me... and yeah, now its really late. I had a great time though. I saw soooo many wild emus, including baby ones. They weren't as ugly as I was expecting. I also now have some wild tan lines from the number of times I got burned. I'm gonna get skin cancer when I'm older. 
> 
> I hope that everybody who celebrates it had a wonderful Christmas, and we all have a great new year (pls don't jinx anything). My cousins all came over yesterday and it was a huge mess. I'm the oldest and sort of in charge of keeping the peace, which is a more difficult job than I would like. Oh well, I'm glad I could see them as there was worry that we would have too many restrictions. 
> 
> Once again, I'm sorry that this is so late, and sorry about my rambling, please ignore my notes if you don't care. I won't blame you. Also I spent like three seconds editing this, sorry if there is any mistakes. There will be, I'm sorry anyway.

The convenience store wasn’t far from Chan’s house and Minho was honestly surprised that he had never been there before. Jisung led the way, though he was slightly hesitant at each turn as if he too wasn’t quite sure where it was.

“Chan doesn’t really need to stay up,” Jisung said quietly over his shoulder as they walked, “He doesn’t have anything to work towards anymore.”

Minho just hummed. He had a feeling that Jisung just needed to talk.

“But we both know Chan; he needs to be doing something, he needs to be busy. I think he’s just pretending to be stressed to distract himself.”

“From…” Minho didn’t know how to fraise it without potentially upsetting Jisung, “the competition?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded, “he doesn’t want to show that he’s upset too. So, yeah, staying busy.”

Minho looked towards his left, in the direction that he imagined Chan’s apartment was,

“Do you think he works all the time because when he isn’t, he thinks too much?”

Jisung nodded,

“Yeah.”

It was like the holiday. On the outside, Chan was thrilled to spend time with his friends, but they could all see that he was devastated that his family couldn’t make it. Minho was so used to Chan helping him with his issues that he often forgot that Chan had problems of his own.

“Ah, this is it!” Jisung exclaimed, pointing to the store, breaking Minho out of his musings.

The store looked exactly how Minho had expected. Smaller than the petrol station he worked at, but similar in principle. The large glass windows on the roadside were plastered with advertisements and product displays that it was difficult to see in.

It looked like a convenience store.

“Took you long enough,” Minho teased and Jisung pouted.

“It looks different in the day.”

Minho was sure it did. The neon lights that looked dull in the day, no doubt shone over the whole building in an elaborate display of colour. Places that looked so mundane in the day could look so fantastical at night. The city for example.

“Don’t whine,” Minho smiled, reaching without thinking, to touch Jisung’s stuck out bottom lip. His fingers brushed it lightly, running from his left across to his right. Jisung’s lips were soft and his breath was warm on Minho’s hand. Jisung breathed in sharply and Minho pulled his hand away quickly, suddenly realising what he had been doing and the tenderness of the moment.

_Shit, I’m sorry._

“Come on, let’s go in,” Minho said cheerfully, though his hand still stayed clenched in a fist by his side.

“Okay,” Jisung grinned, instinctively matching Minho’s level of enthusiasm, though his eyes still showed his confusion.

Jisung’s eyes were so easy to read. They were so round and dark. They took in so much of the world in their wide innocent gaze reflected just as much.

“Let’s go.”

Jisung jumped ahead of him, leading the way. His hand seemed to extend out behind him for a moment as if reaching out to Minho, before falling back to his side. Maybe Minho was just seeing the things he wanted to.

The bell above the door rang as Jisung held it open for Minho to enter. The inside of the shop was reflective of the outside. The quite was evened out by the loudness of the products and advertisement. From every angle bright colours screamed for their attention, all becoming drowned in the visual mess that was these sorts of shops. The entire place was automatically familiar, while also feeling completely alien.

Their entrance must have made enough noise to cause the employee to stand up from where he had been sticking sales stickers to various products. He was tall and skinny, his work uniform hung loosely from his shoulders. Despite his advantage in height, Minho was sure that this boy was no threat.

“Welcome,”

His voice was soft, and the way he pushed his hair behind his ear was timid. Minho relaxed and turned away, but Jisung stayed frozen, staring at the boy. The boy stared back, his dark hair falling back into his eyes.

“You dyed your hair.”

Jisung lifted his hand to the blue strands, lightly stroking them. The boy continued to stare, and Minho watched in confusion. The tension built. These two weren’t strangers.

“Can I get coffee again?” Jisung finally asked, and something in the tone of his voice reminded Minho of an apology.

Jisung followed Not-Hyunjin to the front counter. Minho hung back, and Jisung was grateful. He couldn’t tell if it was a coincidence of if Minho could inherently tell that the interaction was private.

“I’m sorry about last time,” Not-Hyunjin said quietly, his back turned as he made the coffee. The hole in the shoulder of his uniform had been stitched up.

Jisung’s hands danced nervously on the countertop,

“Don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Not-Hyunjin shrugged, his back still facing Jisung,

“I read the situation wrong. I made you uncomfortable.”

Jisung laughed quietly, shaking his head, despite the fact that Not-Hyunjin couldn’t see. His sad laugh caused Not-Hyunjin looked over his shoulder, confusion covering his face.

“You didn’t read the situation wrong,” Jisung covered his face with his hand, it was embarrassing to talk about, “I just… I just behaved weirdly.”

Not-Hyunjin turned around properly, holding the full takeaway cup in his left hand.

“You mean,” he stuttered, “You… You’re… You know,” his eyes flicked up and down Jisung’s body nervously.

Jisung rose the other hand to cover his face more. His skin burned under his palms.

“Kinda, I mean yeah…”

Not-Hyunjin laughed, but to Jisung it sounded empty.

“So, it’s just me you don’t like?”

Jisung lifted his hands from his face,

“No, shit man, I thought you were pretty, it’s just the situation was weird.”

“Weird in what way?” Not-Hyunjin asked, placing the coffee down in front of Jisung and leaning his elbows up against the counter. He acted as if he hadn’t heard the compliment, but the corner of his mouth twitched in an uncontrollable smile.

Jisung looked over his shoulder. Minho had travelled further away, right to the back of the store. He didn’t notice Jisung looking and kept examining the cap display.

“Weird in the way that I was still in love with my best friend that I hadn’t seen in three years.” The words felt wrong on his lips. He had always known the truth himself, but not ever had he spoken it to someone else.

“Is that him?” Not Hyunjin asked, nodding over at Minho. Jisung’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly.

“Oh, no, that’s just Minho.”

_That’s just Minho. That’s just a boy who used to hate me. That’s just a boy who calls me baby and comes to school with split knuckles. He’s just a boy who is scared and broken. He’s a boy who says he doesn’t like people but is always putting his friends' needs before his own. He’s a boy who is a dangerous fighter and a beautiful dancer. He’s a boy who I can never tell what he’s thinking. He’s Minho._

That’s just Minho.

“Do you remember the girl that came in?” Jisung asked Not-Hyunjin, who tilted his head to the left in thought.

“Somewhat, brown hair, expensive clothes?”

Jisung nodded,

“That’s the one. Um, yeah, she’s my childhood friend, and um, he’s her boyfriend.”

“Minho is?” Not-Hyunjin frowned.

Jisung bit his lip,

“No, Tommy’s her boyfriend, and he’s the one… he’s the one, you know.”

Jisung couldn’t say that he loved Tommy, not out loud. It was too painful to admit.

Not-Hyunjin leaned back,

“Shit, sorry, that is awkward.”

Jisung groaned,

“Tell me about it.”

Not-Hyunjin was quiet for a moment. His hand stretched out on the counter, before retreating back into a fist.

“Does that mean you wanted my number?”

Jisung sighed,

“Yeah, but I wanted it selfishly. I was flattered by a pretty boy like you paying me attention but was in no place to be taking it.”

“Are you in a place to be taking it now?”

Jisung looked over his shoulder to Minho again. Minho noticed this time and waved a little, Jisung waved back.

“I don’t think I am sorry.”

Not-Hyunjin smiled despite looking disappointed, and pushed the coffee closer to Jisung, free from any number, though Jisung still had it saved in his phone from last time.

“Thank you,” Jisung picked up the coffee and waved over at Minho to signal that they were leaving, “I’ve never said most of that to anyone before.”

Not-Hyunjin shrugged,

“If things ever change, I’ll be here.”

_Don’t wait for me._

“How the fuck does Chan drink that?” Minho wrinkled his nose, looking into the cup that Jisung was holding out, “It looks like tar!”

The summer air was still warm, despite the evening fast approaching. Cicadas hummed loudly and Minho’s skin seemed to itch for no reason.

“I don’t want to know,” Jisung shivered at the idea, putting the lid back on like he couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. Minho laughed at the joke, but Jisung’s smile seemed forced, more like a grimace. His shoulders were also tense, and his grip on the cup was slightly too tight, causing the cardboard to warp where his fingers pressed into it. His eyes didn’t seem able to stay still, jumping from object to object, as if scanning the environment for threats. The pace which he was walking was slightly too fast to be relaxed and Minho was forced to match his uncomfortable speed to keep up.

Maybe Minho had been watching him for too long because Jisung suddenly turned his wild eyes on him. Minho was too slow to look away and Jisung’s eyes crumbled.

“Go on, ask.”

_Ask what? Who was that boy? How do you know him? Why were you apologising? What did he say to you? Why are you afraid?_

There were so many things Minho wanted to ask. So many questions that burned in the front of his brain and sat restlessly on the tip of his tongue. So many questions that Minho wouldn’t ever ask.

Minho shrugged,

“It’s not my place to know.

He wasn’t sure if that’s the answer Jisung had been expecting as Jisung hardly reacted, his gaze only holding slightly longer that felt natural.

Minho smiled a little,

“We all have our secrets Jisung. I’ll let you tell yours when you’re ready.”

This time Jisung smiled too.

“What makes you think that I have secrets sweetheart.

Minho snorted, but something inside him relaxed. Jisung was joking again; he was comfortable again.

“How can anyone think you don’t?”

Jisung stiffened, and Minho froze. That hadn’t been the right thing to say. Jisung had crawled back into his shell.

“Everyone has secrets,” Minho softened his voice, “No one thinks badly of you because of it.”

Jisung swallowed before smiling. It didn’t look forced but still didn’t seem entirely natural. Almost like he was trying to convince himself that he was okay, rather than convincing Minho.

“My secret is that I’m spiderman.”

He had chosen to joke again, and Minho couldn’t blame him. Minho laughed and linked his arm with Jisung’s as they started to walk again. One day Jisung would tell him the truth. It didn’t matter that today wasn’t that day.

“If you’re spiderman, I want to be wonder woman.”

“Different universes dumbass,” Jisung rolled his eyes and properly smiled.

Minho didn’t have a rebuttal, content with having Jisung happy beside him.

The walk to Chan’s was nice. The scenery wasn’t particularly special, and mosquitoes left bites all over Minho’s skin, but Jisung was there and that was all Minho needed. It was nice and went far too quickly for Minho’s liking.

Chan answered the door when they knocked. Jisung immediately handed the coffee over, which Chan raised to eye level and examined the outside of the cup. Minho turned to Jisung to see if he was just as confused, but Jisung was refusing to make eye contact, the tips of his ears darkening.

“There’s no number this time?” Chan called as Jisung pushed past, entering Chan’s apartment, which was much nicer than Minho’s.

“Shut up Chan,” Jisung called back, and Minho could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

Was that who that boy was? It felt like a long time ago that they had been sitting at their table in the courtyard and Changbin had told them that Jisung had come back with a boy’s number. It had been the day that had met Jeongin, Minho couldn’t remember if he still hated Jisung then, but then again, it was impossible to pinpoint the moment he had stopped.

Minho didn’t like the surge of jealously that overtook his body. Jisung wasn’t his. He was never going to be his. Minho didn’t have the right to be feeling this way.

“Do you want to come in?” Chan asked. He lowered the cup and Minho looked at his face properly for the first time since they arrived. His lips were pale and dry, and the circles under his eyes were dark and heavy. He looked tired, very tired.

“I shouldn’t,” Minho smiled apologetically, “I’ve got dance soon

“Oh, no problem. Have you heard anything about the exams?” he asked even though he knew Minho hadn’t.

“No, not yet. Have you?” Minho asked though he knew Chan hadn’t either. It hadn’t been long enough for any results yet, but it was clear that Chan was worried about it, much more worried than he had ever been during the lead-up.

Chan shook his head,

“Nope, I wish they would hurry up though.”

Chan was the eldest, it was hard to tell him not to worry and it was hard for him to ask for advice. Chan was good at caring; he wasn’t good at letting the others care for him.

Instead, Minho just shrugged,

“They're gonna be ages, I’m just going to try to forget about it for a bit.”

From somewhere in the room Changbin called out.

“I don’t understand why you two are so stressed about it. They’re only midyear’s they don’t even mean that much.”

Chan rolled his eyes so that only Minho could see. Changbin didn’t quite understand, and it wasn’t his fault. Chan needed to do well because his parents were spending a lot of money for him to study in a different country and were doubtful of his pursuit of a music career. Minho needed to do well because he had nothing else to support him in the future.

Changbin had a wealthy family who were happy to watch him make music and support him financially if he couldn’t make money off of it.

Neither Chan nor Minho explained this to him, happy to let the comment slide. Changbin didn’t mean anything hurtful by it, he just didn’t have the same experiences that they had.

“You’ll do great,” Minho said to Chan softly, “You studied hard.”

Chan sighed,

“I hope so.”

“You’ll do good,” Minho said a little more firmly, reaching out to squeeze Chan’s empty hand.

Chan didn’t say anything, just breathed in deeply and squeezed Minho’s hand back too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?”

Minho shook his head,

“I can’t. Hoseok Hyung is already mad that I’m missing the lessons when we’re away, especially since it’s so close to the competition. I can’t be late now too.”

From inside the apartment, Minho could hear Changbin and Jisung arguing but couldn’t hear clearly enough to hear what the argument was about. Knowing them it could be anything, most likely something petty that they would both forget about within the next three minutes.

“You want a lift there?” Chan asked, ignoring the commotion behind him.  
“No thanks,” Minho replied simply, not letting it show how his blood ran cold at the idea of being in a car again, “I can walk, it’s no big deal.”

“Channnnn,” Jisung whined, running up to the doorway, “Changbin’s being mean- oh, are you leaving already Minho.”

Minho just shrugged again,

“I’ve got places to be Baby.”

“Baby!?”

Inside the apartment, Changbin choked on his own words.

Minho blushed red hot from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair but managed to keep his face neutral. Jisung flat out ignored both Changbin’s outburst and Chan’s amused smile that he was trying to hide.

A small part of Minho wanted Jisung to make a big deal out of Minho leaving, maybe he just wanted to feel needed, wanted at least. Although one puppy-eyed look from Jisung and Minho would fall to his will completely. He really would be in trouble if he was late, so maybe it was for the best that Jisung just didn’t.

Instead, he came further out the door and punched Minho’s arm lightly,

“Bye sweetheart.”

The touch was friendly, but still left Minho’s skin tingling. Jisung had no right to have him this whipped.

“Don’t let Lia hear you call him that.”

Chan was joking, but Jisung’s laugh didn’t sound like he found it very funny. Minho laughed too, and he was sure that he sounded just as forced, though he supposed it would be for a different reason.

Did Jisung actually like Lia? It was hard to tell. They got on famously, they definitely had the required chemistry. Yet Jisung was still stuck in his past, not quite over Deaun. Maybe he did like Lia but couldn’t admit it to himself yet. No matter the situation, it was awkward to joke about Lia as Chan had. No matter the situation, it didn’t involve Minho.

“Bye Baby?” Minho joked back. Jisung laughed, and the sound was enough to brush away any negative thought floating in Minho’s brain.

Then Jisung blew him a kiss, the corner of his eyes crinkling with amusement. It didn’t matter if it was a joke because it completely knocked Minho into a lovesick daze. A stupid smile uncontrollably presented itself, and Minho heart seemed to suddenly increase to three times its original size.

Minho had seen Jisung blow kisses to his friends before. For god’s sake, he had seen Jisung kiss his friend’s cheeks every opportunity he could get. The reminder did little to calm the beating of his heart and the rush of emotions flooding upwards to cloud his thoughts.

Jisung flopped on Chan’s bed as soon as Minho left. Chan shut the door and sat crossed-legged beside him. The blanket pulled under his weight.

“You guys are much closer than I was expecting.”

Jisung wrinkled his nose but didn’t reply to Chan’s statement. He didn’t know how.

Changbin spun the rolling chair around, spinning somewhat wildly.

“You have cute nicknames for each other!” Changbin stopped turning, facing the bed, “You have cute nicknames with Mr Lee Minho! Mr Lee Minho who still has my contact saved as _Seo Changbin from biology_!”

Chan laughed,

“Yeah, he still has me saved as _Bang Chan (Christopher) the exchange student (Australian)_.”

Jisung giggled, pulling Chan’s pillow from under his head and hugging it against his chest. What would Minho have saved his as? Han Jisung? Jisung? Possibly Baby? Jisung brought the pillow up and buried his face in it. Chan chuckled and rubbed Jisung’s leg fondly. Jisung hummed appreciatively, the sound completely muffled by the pillow.

Minho wasn’t late for dance, though he had to jog the last kilometre to make it so. He was still smiling when he arrived, which he didn’t think was too uncommon. Apparently, he must usually look downright miserable, as Hobi immediately narrowed his eyes when Minho entered the studio.

“What happened?” Hobi asked suspiciously, “You look so happy?”

Minho shrugged, but his grin only grew. The image of Jisung blowing that kiss replayed in his head over and over. The tips of his fingers tingled.

“Stop it!” Hobi teased, “It’s weird.”

Minho laughed, but it sounded airy and loose. Hobi’s eyes widened further.

“Who are you and what have you done with Minho!”

Minho didn’t say anything. He just flopped to the ground beside Hobi, joining him in stretching, the dumb hazy smile still on his face.

The door burst open without warning, and Changbin’s sister entered, carrying a large box full of colourful and glittering clothes that piled up to the point where they were covering most of her face.

It was costume fittings today; Minho had forgotten.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, placing the box down carefully on the bench that ran perpendicular to the mirrors. One of the costumes, that had been precariously balanced on the top, tumbled to the ground. She paid it no mind.

“I know right,” Hobi got up and came over to stand next to her, both analytically staring down and Minho.

“Nothing’s up with me!” Minho tried to sound like his usual grumpy self but failed miserably.

Changbin’s sister gasped,

“Oh, something is definitely up!”

“Yeah,” Hobi agreed, “The last time he looked like this was when he got his last cat- You didn’t get another cat, did you?!”

Minho shook his head, though the idea was tempting.

“Nah,” Changbin’s sister grinned, “People only look like that when they’re in love, but we all know Minho doesn’t have feelings- Hang on are you blushing?!”

Minho buried his face in his hands. The blush travelled down his body like a flood.

“Oh my god! You’re in love!”

Minho couldn’t say anything, because yeah, he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how badly I want SKZOO plushies? Especially a Jisung one. I may or may not be completely obsessed with it's design. Quokkas are so cute and Jisung makes it even cuter :(((((((((((((((. 
> 
> Unrelated but can Bibi please step on me? She's so pretty. 
> 
> See you next time, I promise it won't be this long. Won't promise when though hehe, I'm unreliable sorry.


	39. Chapter 39 (Five more seconds)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody!  
> I tried something different with this chapter, I hope you don't hate it!  
> I've been sewing my prom dress this last week and it's actually turning out good, I'm very proud of myself.

Minho walked Jisung to school on Monday like promised, then again on Tuesday and again on Wednesday. It was nice having Minho’s company. The walk went fast, but most likely took a lot longer than usual as it was incredibly easy to get distracted with Minho there. Jisung excitedly pointed out all the little things he passed each day. Like the bird feeder hanging by the side of the road that occasionally had squirrels in it. Or the apple tree that hung over the pathway, with little fruits only just starting to grow. All these mundane things seemed exciting when Minho seemed so interested in listening to him.

Minho even met his mum. He arrived early on Wednesday and came up to the apartment to wait for Jisung there as Jisung had woken up late and was a complete mess still. His mum offered Minho tea and they sat together at the dining table, talking quietly as Jisung rushed around attempting to get ready in double speed.

“Your mum is nice,” Minho said, as Jisung closed the gate behind them. The lock was beginning to rust and Jisung struggled to get it in place.

“Thanks,” Jisung said even though it wasn’t really a compliment for him, “You were lucky to catch her, she’s never here.”

Minho hummed sadly,

“That sucks.”

Here Jisung was again, complaining about something that Minho didn’t have.

He didn’t apologise because it didn’t look like Minho would appreciate it. Instead, he just kicked the gate into place and swung his bag over his shoulder.

“You should come over for one of our movie nights.”

The invitation was supposed to sound casual, but Jisung was pretty sure that Minho picked up on how his voice rose slightly.

“I don’t want to ruin your time together,” Minho smiled at him.

“Nonsense,” Jisung put his hands on his hips and made a show of sticking his bottom lip out, “She’d love to have you there. _I’d_ love to have you there.”

Minho ducked his head down, but Jisung could still see his smile.

“Okay, tell me the date, and I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Jisung grinned and linked his arm with Minho’s, “It will be so much fun.”

Minho flinched slightly when their arms touched, but then relaxed again, something that Jisung had gotten used to. Minho was always so cautious when it came to physical touch. His immediate reaction was to pull away, but maybe he truly liked it as he was quick to unconsciously chase it.

“Are you picking the movie?” Minho asked, giggling slightly.

Jisung narrowed his eyes, suspicious of Minho’s playful tone.

“Yes… Maybe… Why?”

“Oh god, I’m not coming then.” Minho tipped his head back dramatically and Jisung hit his arm.

“I’m picking,” Jisung said firmly, “and you’re coming.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but he was smiling widely. Jisung knew that Minho would come when he asked.

“What are dressing up as?” Changbin asked a Minho walked with him to their next class. Lia’s party was drawing closer and she had rung earlier in the week to let them know that she had decided to make it a costume party. She said it was more interesting that way, but to Minho, it felt like a personal punishment.

“I don’t know,” Minho groaned. He wanted to do nothing less than put on a costume, he blamed Jisung for suggesting the idea to Lia.

Changbin laughed at his misfortune, though he too was invited and was going to have to wear one as well. Then again, Changbin had no shame.

“Jisung’s super excited for it. If you don’t dress up, he’s gonna be disappointed.”

Minho groaned again. He didn’t want to wear a costume, but for Jisung’s sake, he would. He would do anything to see Jisung’s smile.

Changbin smirked at him like he knew exactly what Minho was thinking. Or maybe he was just excited to see Minho looking like an idiot.

Jeongin and Seungmin’s last baseball game for the season was on Thursday evening. They hadn’t made it to the finals, but the boys all came to cheer anyway. Felix wore Seungmin’s spare uniform and Hyunjin had managed to squeeze into one of Jeongin’s from the year before, though it hugged his chest tightly and rose to show his belly button every time he lifted his arms. The rest of them had attacked plain white shirts with permanent markers until they somewhat resembled the team uniform.

They cheered as loud as they could, coming up with stupid chants and doing their utmost to embarrass the boys on the field. Jisung and Felix held one side each of a large banner that read _‘Kim Seungmin is hot’_ , and Hyunjin held up his own that said _‘Jeongin for presidency’_. Changbin had wanted to make one that said, _‘If you don’t win, I’ll kill you’_ , but Chan had drawn the line.

Seungmin rolled his eyes at them more times than Jisung could count, and Jeongin mouthed ‘idiots’ at them a total of eight times. Still, they grinned and laughed a lot more, and Jisung knew that they were happy to have them there.

They lost, but no-one was particularly disappointed. The opponent was strong, and the score was closer than any of them had expected it to be. Jeongin hit a home run and Seungmin did a killer job pitching, so everybody was proud, despite their defeat.

They all went back to Seungmin’s after, where his parents had pre-prepared, what could only be described as a feast. Jisung ate until he felt like he would explode, and even then, Mrs Kim served him another plate.

Minho had to leave early for dance. Jisung was sad to see him go and pouted as Minho bid his goodbyes, doing his best to refuse the box of food that Mrs Kim was forcing into his hands. Jisung knew he would end up taking it. They always did. It was very hard to refuse the Kim’s cooking.

“Why are you looking so sad, Baby?” Minho asked, ruffling Jisung’s hair, “I’m going to see you in less than twelve hours anyway.”

“Twelve is too many,” Jisung whined and Jeongin pretended to throw up in his bowl.

The last day of school dragged on. The air conditions did little to combat the heat leaving the students sticky and eager for the day to end and the holidays to start. The teachers struggled to control their classes and lacked the motivation too. Minho lay with his head on his desk, not bothering to participate in the ‘fun’ quiz that his teacher had lazily provided. Out the window crows hopped around the yard, picking at loose pieces of litter, and scavenging for lunch scraps that had been carelessly discarded.

“One more hour,” Minho whispered to himself, “Sixty minutes.”

A lucky crow found half an abandoned muffin and pecked at it gleefully before it was swarmed by the rest of the murder, all fighting for a share.

Jisung met his friends at the gate after the final bell rang. The sun’s rays had only gotten more intense as the day continued, the warmth that would have usually drained Jisung’s energy was drowned out by the excitement of holidays.

Chan suggested that they grabbed ice creams, which in Jisung’s mind was him offering to pay. Jisung dragged them all down to Mrs Parks, and Chan reluctantly handed his credit card over. Mrs Park scolded Jisung for eating more sugar but made sure that his scoop was extra-large.

“Has everybody decided what they’re wearing for Lia’s?” Hyunjin asked when they had all settled down on the riverbed, not worrying about how the grass might stain their uniforms.

Jisung’s ears immediately perked.

“Yeah,” Chan flopped down so he was lying on his back, “I’m reusing my one from last Halloween.”

Jisung hadn’t known Chan last Halloween and didn’t know which costume he was referring to.

“I’ve grown out of mine from last year,” Felix pouted, “But I fit into my older sisters Elsa dress she wore.”

“Elsa?” Hyunjin whined, “I wanted to be the only one dressed as a girl!”

“You’re dressing as a girl too?!” Felix cried, and Jisung thought that if he wasn’t holding his ice cream, he might have thrown himself at Hyunjin.

“Minho doesn’t want to dress up,” Changbin smirked evilly and Minho glared at him.

“Hyung…” Jisung gasped, staring up at him and utilizing his puppy eyes, “You don’t want to dress up?”

Minho squirmed, and Jisung stuck out his bottom lip.

“Fine. I’ll dress up.”

Changbin cackled and Jisung, Felix and Jeongin all cheered.

“Bring your camera Hyunjin,” Changbin requested, and if looks could kill, Changbin would be stone-cold from the glare Minho sent him.

“You don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to.” Jisung bumped Minho’s side as they walked home together.

“I know,” Minho said after a moment. The sun had started to set, basking the city in gold, “But you would be disappointed if I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Jisung reassured, though he was lying a little. The idea had been his and he would be a little upset if Minho didn’t like it, then again, he didn’t want to force Minho into doing something he was uncomfortable with.

“But it would make you happy if I did,” Minho smiled fondly and Jisung frowned.

“You shouldn’t do things you don’t want just because it would make me happy.”

“So, it would?” Minho laughed softly.

“No,” Jisung lied.

“I’ll dress up,” Minho said finally.

Jisung didn’t argue with him anymore. They walked together in comfortable silence. The golden lights slowly faded and were replaced with the yellow spotlights of the streetlamps. Jisung watched Minho out the corner of his eye, admiring the way the sharp lines of his face were amplified by the shadows cast by the overhead lights.

“Now that’s school is over I won’t see you every day.” Jisung kicked a rock on the pavement, sending it flying out in front of them. He didn’t know why the idea bothered him so much. It wasn’t like he was going to be seeing any of the rest of his friends any more often.

“I guess not.” Jisung didn’t know if he was hearing things but Minho sounded sad about it too.

“I’ll come into your work,” Jisung promised as they arrived at his apartment block. Minho put the password in the gate for him.

“Are you? My manager’s not gonna be happy with me if you do.”

Jisung shrugged as Minho pushed the gate shut behind them. It didn’t click into place and Minho had to pull it again with a lot more force.

Jisung put in the second code on the front door.

“We’ll he would just have to deal with me because I’m not letting you go for more than three days in a row without my presence.”

Minho laughed and ruffled Jisung’s hair. Jisung leaned into his hand.

“See you Sunday.” Minho pulled Jisung into a hug, one hand still in his hair, the other wrapped gently around his waist. Jisung buried his face into Minho’s neck, breathing in the smell of his skin.

“See you then,” Jisung whispered back, his lips brushed Minho’s skin as he talked.

Neither moved away.

Despite being dyed, Jisung’s hair was soft and silky under Minho’s touch. His breath on Minho’s neck left Minho with shivers and an aching heart. How was Jisung so near yet so far? Minho pulled him in closer, and Jisung wrapped his own arms around Minho.

Jisung’s distinctive vanilla scent was addicting and dizzying. Minho dipped his head, so his nose was nestled in Jisung’s hair, breathing in, and drowning himself in the smell.

_Five more seconds._

He would allow himself to be selfish for that much longer. He would allow himself to hold Jisung against him like he was Minho’s. Then he would face reality.

_Five._

_Four._

_Three._

_Two._

_One._

Minho gently pushed Jisung away, not allowing his hands to linger on Jisung’s shoulders.

Jisung smiled up at him with his dark warm eyes and Minho melted just a little bit more. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Bye Jisung.”

“Sleep well Minho.”

Jisung waved to him as he walked away. Minho didn’t look back. He didn’t want to risk losing any of his remaining self-control. If he stayed a minute longer, he might not ever be able to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I tried out swapping perspectives quicker. I personally like it, but I don't know if it's going to be too jarring to read.  
> Sorry that this one is so short after making you guys wait for so long. However, I have worked a ton on later chapters, which are going to be sooo much more difficult to write. I hope you guys enjoy the fluff while it lasts!


	40. Chapter 40 (You weren’t supposed to pick him)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one has taken a while, but I've been working hard at it. It's quite a bit longer than they usually are and a lot happens, so I hope that makes up for it.

Jisung didn’t bother knocking and burst through Hyunjin’s front door without hesitation. Seungmin was lounging on the couch, his hair already styled back and costume on. He didn’t look up from his phone when he heard Jisung enter.

“They’re in the bathroom.”

“All of them?” Jisung asked, surprised. Hyunjin’s bathroom wasn’t exactly big, and six of them took up quite a lot of space.

“Don’t ask,” Seungmin finally looked up, “Who are you supposed to be?”

Jisung grinned and tapped the side of his nose,

“It’s a surprise.”

Seungmin didn’t ask any more questions and went back to his phone with a shrug.

Unbothered, Jisung continued through the apartment towards the bathroom, stopping briefly in the kitchen to steal some of Hyunjin’s snacks.

“Hey,” Felix caught sight of him first. Little snowflakes stuck to the sides of his face, complimenting his cheekbones, and highlighting his freckles. His dress, which glittered blue, was too small, as his sister’s shoulders had clearly been thinner than his were, and the zip didn’t do up all the way. They had done a somewhat okay job at disguising it with the cape, though the see-through fabric wasn’t exactly helping.

“Hey,” Jisung sat himself down on the counter, making the room even more cramped than it already was. Hyunjin’s mother’s makeup was spread throughout the room though hardly anyone was actually using it. Felix had some on, as did Hyunjin, and Minho was crouched over, using his phone as a mirror, a pencil eyeliner in hand. The rest seemed to be in there just to make their life more difficult.

Chan tipped his cowboy hat in greeting,

“Howdy.”

Around them, their friends cringed. Changbin even pulled the hood of his onesie down to cover his face.

“I don’t think Indiana Jones even says ‘howdy’” Jeongin teased and Chan hit him lightly.

Hyunjin stood up, smacking his lips, and making sure the glossy pink lipstick was evenly spread.

Jisung breathed in sharply.

Hyunjin looked stunning.

His usually dark eyes were covered by electric blue contacts and amplified by soft eyeshadow and light blush. His face was framed by a waist-length blond wig and if Jisung hadn’t already known, he might have thought Hyunjin was a girl from the first glance.

“Oh wow.”

Felix snorted with laughter, then groaned as little snowflakes were knocked to the floor.

Hyunjin hid his face behind his hand,

“Stop looking, it’s embarrassing.”

“Oh wow,” Jisung repeated, beckoning for Hyunjin to come closer, which he did, “How are you so pretty?”

Hyunjin blushed properly at that,

“Thanks”

“I didn’t know you knew how to do makeup?” Jisung asked, leaning in close to examine Hyunjin’s contacts.

Hyunjin squirmed under his close gaze.

“I don’t. Mum did it for me before she left.”

Jisung leaned back to admire the dress and apron,

“Alice in wonderland?”

Hyunjin nodded shyly and Felix cheered lazily at the correct guess.

“You look amazing bro.”

Hyunjin suddenly smirked, and Jisung knew that he wasn’t going to get a compliment back.

“I wish I could say the same for you.”

Jisung giggled and did a little twirl so Hyunjin could admire his striped pyjamas from all angles.

“Do you like it?” Jisung laughed again as Hyunjin looked him up and down.

“You look like an idiot!”

“One of my many talents,” Jisung teased, unbothered by his friend’s words.

Hyunjin shook his head. His blond wig twisted from side to side unnaturally.

“Well, I’ll take great pleasure in watching you embarrass Lia in front of all her rich bitch friends.”

Jisung doubled over laughing, pulling his yellow beanie down until it covered his eyes.

“Trust me,” Jisung giggled, “I’m not gonna embarrass her.”

The walk from Hyunjin’s to Lia’s was not a long one, which is why they had chosen his house to begin with. The night had already fallen around them, but the golden streetlights provided more than enough light. The night was warm; Jisung wondered if Minho was hot in his leather jacket.

Jisung led the way alone, which in his opinion was a mistake, and the rest of his friends trailed behind. Changbin and Chan had taken the hard job of carrying the alcohol, leaving the rest of them to walk freely.

The stars were dull, and Jisung struggled to pick out any, even the moon seemed somewhat dull. Jisung sighed, wishing he had worn his hoodie, just for a pocket to hide his hands in.

Behind him Hyunjin and Minho walked side by side, heads close together in a secret conversation. Jisung told himself that he wouldn’t eavesdrop, but their voices seemed to be the only thing Jisung could focus on, drowning out the sounds of the wind and the cicadas.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Hyunjin whispered, only just loud enough for Jisung to hear, “I know he didn’t mean it.”

“He still said it,” Minho whispered back.

“Don’t worry, I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I’m not worried.”

“You look it.”

_Who are they talking about? Is it me? Am I overthinking?_

Jisung shook his head.

_Stop listening._

The sounds of the night returned to his eyes, though Jisung struggled to keep them there. Their conversation turned into mumbled noise though Jisung had to fight to stop himself from naturally focusing in on them again.

_Stop listening._

Jisung spotted a brighter star in the sky and breathed in.

“What are you looking for Baby?”

Jisung’s eyes fell from the sky. Minho smiled at him softly.

“The stars,” Jisung smiled back, “They’re so hard to see sometimes. It’s difficult to remember how many there are.”

Minho looked up at the sky, but Jisung kept his eyes on Minho. He had put on makeup too, though instead of making him look soft and feminine, he looked strong, masculine, dangerous. Even still, Jisung wasn’t scared of him, not anymore.

“There are so many more than you can imagine,” Minho gestured up at the sky, “Mum used to tell me about when she visited the Australian outback. There’s no one around for miles, and the sky is so full of stars it takes your breath away. She said it was like looking up into heaven.”

“I would like to see that one day,” Jisung breathed, a little taken with just the idea of it.

“Me too.” Minho’s head dropped so he was looking at Jisung instead.

Jisung nodded. The streetlights reflected in Minho’s eyes, and Jisung imagined that it was the light from stars instead. Minho would suit them.

Jisung wanted to ask if Minho would come with him; if Minho would stand beside him and look up into heaven, but Minho met his eyes, and suddenly the streetlight just looked like streetlight.

“You dressed up,” was all Jisung could manage.

Minho flushed pink. He reached up and touched the cat ears perched upon his head.

“Yeah, I did.”

Jisung reached out and bopped the little dark cat nose that Minho had drawn on his own nose in eyeliner.

“You look cute.”

“I don’t look cute,” Minho grumbled and Jisung giggled.

“Yeah, you do.” He reached out and traced the whiskers drawn across Minho’s cheeks.

“Get a room!” Jeongin cried out from somewhere behind them. Minho stuck up the middle finger in his general direction and Jisung stuck his tongue out, though he did lower his hand from Minho’s cheek, and feel a blush rising to his own.

Lia’s house was expensive looking in the way that wasn’t outright obvious. Like it clearly cost a lot, but they weren’t trying to make it seem that way. It was one story but had visibly high ceilings and tall wide windows. Even from the front garden, you could tell. The grass was perfectly green, despite the heat that would have naturally dried it out. It looked so perfectly cared for that Minho hesitated before laying foot on it, worried that his weight might permanently damage it. His friends didn’t hold the same sentiment and crossed the lawn without hesitation, Felix hitching up his glittery blue dress to avoid staining it.

Minho pulled at the sleeves of his jacket nervously. The cat ears slipped down again, and he hurriedly pushed them back into place. Changbin snickered at him, which was brave considering his penguin onesie.

Chan rang the doorbell. Minho could already hear the chaos of the party commencing inside, the noise a mixture of enticing and revolting. The sound of the doorbell was no doubt lost in amongst the madness.

“Do we just go in?” Jeongin asked after a moment. He had pushed his spiderman mask up, so it gathered around his forehead, allowing him to breathe and speak with ease. Minho didn’t understand how he had managed to get his hands on such a good quality costume, or why he had decided to wear the thick bodysuit on such a warm night. Then again, Changbin’s penguin outfit was just as warm, and nowhere near as cool.

They all turned to look at Jisung, him being the only one to have actually been to Lia’s house before. Jisung shrugged at them, before forging ahead and pushing the heavy wooden door open.

The party seemed to spill out into the garden, overwhelming them before they had even stepped foot inside. Bright colourful lights illuminated unidentifiable smoke, and disguised costumed figures. The whole environment was alluring in a way that Minho couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Jisung led the way in, using his tiny little body to push a path through the sea of people. His yellow beanie clad head bobbed in and out of Minho’s view as they trailed behind him.

“This place is huge,” Hyunjin whispered to Minho, tucking his wig behind his ear nervously. Minho rubbed his elbow reassuringly.

“This is so cool!” Jeongin’s voice sounded too high and far too young to be surrounded by the smell of weed and alcohol.

“Don’t you go off doing anything stupid,” Minho warned, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of protectiveness over his youngest friend. Jeongin rolled his eyes playfully but didn’t argue. His shoulders hunched and despite his excitement, Minho could also tell he was at least somewhat uncomfortable.

“Only drink as much as Chan lets you, and don’t lose sight of a drink for a second. If you do, it’s gone, okay, don’t drink it.”

“Okay Hyung,” Jeongin held his hands up in mock surrender, “I get it,” but he shuffled in closer to Minho’s body, pulling his mask down to cover his face. Minho patted the top of his head.

“Chan!” A booming voice called out cheerfully from across the room. Minho didn’t have time to determine who the voice belonged to before Chan was knocked sidewards in a tackling hug.

Chan burst out laughing and hugged the silver-haired body back. Jeongin, who had shied behind Minho, slowly and hesitantly made his way out, though he kept the mask firmly on.

“Bambam! It’s been too long man!”

Bambam, of course.

Bambam had a pirate bandana tied around his neck and huge hoop earrings dangling from his ears. A plastic hook dangled loosely in his right hand. When he smiled, Minho could easily see the mischief in his expression that suited the costume.

Chan swung his arm over Bambam’s shoulder, his wide grin making itself shown.

“Everybody, this is my mate Bam. Bam, this is everybody.”

Bambam’s eyes floated over the group, smiling at them kindly until he stopped at Minho.

“Yo, Minho, how’s it going?”

Minho shrugged, smirking slightly,

“Not too bad.”

“You know each other?” Chan asked curiously, a slight accusation in his eyes.

“Not really,” Minho said at the same time Bambam said,

“Yes.”

“We met at a party once,” Minho elaborated, hoping that Bambam picked up the message not to talk about it.

“Jisung too,” Bambam continued and Minho flinched internally. Chan raised his eyebrows at Minho.

Jisung nodded, blushing slightly,

“Sorry about that, I was pretty out of it.”

Bambam waved his hand as if brushing Jisung’s apology aside,

“Don’t worry about it, its good to see you again. I’ll take that to the kitchen if you want.”

Changbin handed over the beer he was carrying. Bambam gestured for Chan to follow him.

“Stay safe,” Chan called over his shoulder, “Jeongin, stay with the others, don’t drink anything that’s already been opened.”

Bambam laughed as Jeongin stuck his middle finger up at Chan.

“I’m not even that much younger,” he complained, though Minho felt him shuffle in a little bit closer.

Bambam and Chan disappeared into the mass of people.

“If anybody asks, me and Minho are good friends.” Bambam’s voice was only just legible over the music. Minho didn’t hear Chan’s response.

“Come on,” Jisung pulled on Minho’s sleeve, “Lia’s probably in the living room.”

“I thought we were in the living room,” Hyunjin frowned, looking the expensive leather couches.

“This is the front room,” Jisung said, continuing on, unaffected. Minho wondered how Jisung had become so associated with rich people, to the extent that such a wealthy lifestyle seemed normal. Especially since Jisung’s lifestyle itself wasn’t particularly extravagant.

Jisung was right, Lia was in the living room. She jumped up from the lounge when she saw them enter, her blue hair becoming a streak of colour as she flew across the room into Jisung’s arms.

Minho swallowed the lump of jealously that rose into his throat. Jisung wasn’t his to be jealous over.

A yellow bucket hat sat on top of her head and Minho realised suddenly that she was also wearing striped pyjamas. They had organised matching costumes. Minho couldn’t bring himself to call them couple costumes, though in his head that’s what they were most likely to be.

Felix doubled over laughing,

“I get who you are now! That’s fantastic!”

Jisung grinned widely, his heart-shaped smile predictably beautiful.

Minho stared at them blankly.

“B1 and B2,” Jisung explained, “Banana’s in Pyjamas.”

Minho nodded, though he still had no idea what Jisung was talking about. He would look it up in a second.

“Oh wow, of course, how did I not see it before,” Minho lied with a smile on his face and Jisung fell for it.

“You still look stupid,” Jeongin mumbled playfully from behind Minho, and Jisung pretended to hit him.

Jisung had never met any of Lia’s friends before. They were all tall, skinny, pretty, rich, with perfect posture and expensive clothes. Lia seemed to have told them a lot about Jisung, and Jisung was a little embarrassed at the fact that he knew nothing about any of them.

On the surface, they seemed nice, but as soon as they started talking Jisung knew that he didn’t like them very much. At first, they seemed to be interested in Jisung, but pretty quickly he noticed that all their questions were directed towards Lia, even when they were about him like he wasn’t even there. They were dismissive of his comments, the way someone brushes off a child. Jisung got the idea that they didn’t take him, or Lia’s relationship with him, very seriously. Lia shot him a sympathetic look, and Jisung smiled back. He couldn’t help but wonder why she was friends with them.

When the doorbell rang, both Lia and Jisung jumped on it as an excuse to leave. The girls didn’t seem to notice how desperate they were to escape the one-sided conversation and were not insulted in the slightest.

“I’m sorry about them,” Lia whispered to him as they made their way to the front door, “I don’t think they realise they're doing it.”

“It’s okay,” Jisung whispered back. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry that she had to be friends with them, but it felt a touch to mean.

“They’re not always that bad,” Lia stopped at the door and smiled unconvincingly at him.

_Not always? Some of the time? Most of the time?_

Lia opened the door and Jisung froze.

Two figures stood on the doorstep, both in costume, though Jisung had no problem recognising either.

“Jisung?” The male figure asked, his voice tentative and cautious, and Jisung’s whole world came crashing down.

Two figures stood on the doorstep, two people who Jisung had run from years ago. One who had recently found her way back to him and the other who Jisung had promised himself would always stay away.

On the right stood Deaun, glamorous as always, dressed in Marilyn Monroe’s famous little white dress. Her lips were bright red, and her eyes glittered in the dark. Her long brown hair had been tucked away under a bombshell blond wig, making her look, not quite like herself.

And on the left,

On the left there was Tommy.

Tommy who was staring down at him with wide, surprised eyes and a familiar face. Tommy who still towered over him. Tommy who Jisung couldn’t bring himself to face.

Without another word, Jisung turned and fled back into the house, once again silently running from his problems.

Minho sat lazily on the couch, head tilted back, watching as Changbin beat person after person in arm wrestling. Minho had been invited to join, as Changbin knew that Minho was stronger than he looked, and it was always funny watching him defeating people twice his size with ease. Minho had declined, choosing instead just to spectate from the lounge. Felix cheered loudly beside him, completely unaware of how his deep voice and beautiful features were being admired from every angle.

On Minho’s other side Hyunjin giggled quietly. The alcohol had made his voice high and light.

“Do you think he realises that half the girls here have their eyes on him?” he whispered to Minho, nodding his head in Felix’s direction.

Minho shook his head,

“Nope, he has no clue.”

Changbin won another game. His opponent, an older looking boy, much larger too, clapped Changbin on the back, grinning and offering him another drink. The slightly tense part of Minho’s brain relaxed. Fights were always dangerous when the defeated was a sore loser. Nothing’s more deadly than a man with a hurt ego.

Changbin stood up with the other boy and followed him into the kitchen. Minho watched them disappear into the crowds.

“He’ll be fine,” Felix nudged Minho’s side. Minho tore his eyes away from the door.

“I know he will be,” but the doubt was still there, “Has anyone seen Jeongin recently?”

Hyunjin giggled again and poked Minho’s cheek.

“Stop worrying!” Felix exclaimed, pushing his arm playfully, “He’s with Seungmin, Chan and Bambam, he’s safe.”

Minho frowned and pushed Felix back,

“I’m not worrying.”

Felix snickered,

“Sure, you’re not.”

Minho slumped back against the couch and brought his bottle to his lips. The drink had warmed since he had taken it out the fridge and the liquid was no longer refreshing, just sticky and intoxicating.

“He’s here!”

Minho’s daze was broken. His head snapped up to Jisung, standing in the doorway, eyes panicked, and hands clenched.

“What?” Hyunjin sat up.

“He’s here!” Jisung repeated, eyes dashing around the room, “I don’t want to see him!”

“What are you talking about?” Hyunjin grabbed Jisung’s hand, forcing him to relax.

“ _He’s_ here.” Jisung stared deep into Hyunjin’s eyes, communicating a message Minho wished he could understand.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raised with dawning understanding,

“Oh, _they’re_ here?”

Jisung nodded.

“Quick,” Hyunjin jumped to his feet, “I know where they won’t find you.”

Just as quickly as Jisung had arrived, they were gone again.

Minho and Felix both stared at the doorway where they had disappeared through.

“What the fuck was that?” Felix asked and all Minho could reply was,

“I have no clue.

They were both still watching the door when Lia came running through. Her hat had gone missing at some point during the evening, and she was left wearing only the pyjamas, and a look of pure panic on her face.

“Minho!” She smiled but to Minho, it looked incredibly forced.

She grabbed onto Minho’s wrist, pulling him up from the couch. She was stronger than she looked. Her voice was still pleasant and light, but her fingers dug into his skin.

“Do you mind if I steal Minho for a second?” She smiled at Felix politely before pulling Minho into a somewhat secluded corner, not waiting for his answer.

Her grip on his wrist relaxed, though he was left with the marks from her nails.

“Tommy’s here.”

Minho froze,

“What?”

“I know,” Lia bit her lip, “Deaun brought him along, I didn’t expect her to because she’s been trying to keep you guys apart, but he’s here and I don’t know what to do.”

Minho sighed and buried his head in his hands.

“Shit. I’ll just try and keep a low profile, hopefully he won’t cause trouble with everybody around.”

“Are you sure,” Lia mumbled, “I can make up a reason to get him to leave.”

Minho shook his head,

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just stay away from Jisung, if it gets bad, I can always leave.”

Lia frowned,

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Minho didn’t really want too either.

“Don’t worry too much Lia, I’ll handle it.”

Hyunjin’s idea of hiding turned out to be snatching a six-pack from the kitchen and hiding out in the back garden, behind the rose bushes. Hyunjin took his apron off and lay it down for them to sit on.

“Are you okay?” he asked, opening a bottle, and handing it over to Jisung, who excepted it thankfully in shaking hands.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighed, taking a long swig of his drink, “I’m such a coward.”

Hyunjin ruffled his hair,

“You’re not.”

Jisung didn’t believe him.

Hyunjin patted his lap, and Jisung rested his head in it, laying down across the apron. Almost immediately Hyunjin started twisting his fingers thought the locks. Jisung let his eyes flutter shut.

“Do you want to talk about him?” Hyunjin asked after a moment.

Jisung sighed,

“Do you want to hear about him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Jisung lifted his head up.

“Get me drunk first.”

Hyunjin laughed,

“Deal.”

So that’s what they did. They sat in Lia’s back yard, behind the rose bushes, drinking themselves silly and Hyunjin listened to Jisung’s stories about Tommy.

Jisung told him the stories from when he was too young to remember them personally. Like the one where Tommy aged one and a half, had tried to feed a newborn baby Jisung grass. Or the time when he was four and Tommy fell into the creek when they were trying to catch frogs.

Jisung told him the stories about their adventures and how Tommy could make anything exciting. He told Hyunjin about their bikes, skateboarding, painting, about the things they shouldn’t have been doing, and the dangerous things that Tommy so easy.

He told Hyunjin about the moment that Tommy and Deaun started dating, and the days after when Jisung felt such overwhelming jealously and heartbreak that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but disappear. About how he left without explanation and never talked to either of them again.

He told Hyunjin about how lonely he had felt and how they both sent him messages for years after, asking him to hang out as if nothing had happened. He told Hyunjin about how Tommy used to message him every time he bought gummy worms because he knew they were Jisung’s favourites and how Jisung never replied.

He told Hyunjin about trying to move on but never managing to because Tommy was always there, just out of reach, but close enough that Jisung was still trapped in his grip.

And Hyunjin just listened, running his fingers thought Jisung’s hair, wiping his drunken tears away, and cradling Jisung’s head against his stomach.

“Do you still love him?” Hyunjin asked when Jisung was too sad to talk anymore.

Jisung blinked up at the sky,

“I don’t think I could love anyone else, because no matter what, no matter how much I think I’ve healed he’s always there to break my heart again,” Jisung said simply, tears slowly making their way down his face. Hyunjin was gentle when he brushed them away.

“I know how it feels,” Hyunjin took in a deep breath, his chest shaking when his breath caught. “Loving someone who will never love you back, and you know it, but you still can’t move on and they have no idea.”

“Yeah.” Jisung laughed a little.

“It hurts.” Hyunjin smiled sadly and cracked open another bottle.

“Yeah, it does.” Jisung smiled too and excepted the drink.

Minho sat on the couch, surrounded by strangers but alone. The drink in his hand, his second of the night, was only half empty and he didn’t feel nearly enough ‘gone’ to be in this situation. He stared blankly at the wall; the music seemed to echo inside his head. In the front room, a game of Just Dance was commencing, and Lia had come in to ask if Minho had wanted to play. Minho had declined. Tommy was in the front room, as were a couple of his friends. It would cause to much trouble to play. Lia excepted his decline with a soft hand on his shoulder and a moment of company as she sat beside him. She looked stressed. Minho felt bad for making her feel that way.

Minho didn’t know where his friends were. Hyunjin and Jisung were still off hiding, and Minho knew it would be a bad idea to go looking for them anyway. Felix was in the front room no doubt, and Minho assumed the others were too. Chan had come in briefly, just to make sure he was okay, and had left again when Minho had stared at him blankly. Chan was good in the way he knew that sometimes it was better for both of them if Minho was left to deal with his own problems.

Minho brought the drink to his lips. It tasted horrible and burned like acid on his tongue. Minho couldn’t remember if it had always tasted that bad, or if his head was playing tricks on him. Minho squeezed his eyes shut and tipped his head back, draining the bottle in one go. His neck cracked with how long he had been sitting in the same position.

The door opened. Minho didn’t bother looking who had entered and continued to stare at the wall as they had sat down in the armchair across the other side of the room. There was a loud clinking sound as they slammed their bottle onto the coffee table, the glass colliding loudly with the hard polished wood. Only then did Minho lazily tilt his head to the side.

It was Tommy.

Minho kept his posture the exact same, not letting his sudden consciousness show. Tommy reclined in his chair, though his relation felt like a threat, his eyes not moving from Minho for a second.

Minho didn’t look away either. A smirk grew on his lips as Tommy’s hand twitched nervously. Hell would freeze over before Minho lost a glare down.

Minho raised his eyebrow, and that was it. Tommy looked away, and Minho had won.

“What do you want,” Minho asked cooling after a moment had passed.

Tommy stood up,

“I’m watching you,” Tommy said, his voice barely quiver, but it did, and Minho picked up on it, “If you do anything to any of my friends, I’ll know.”

Minho laughed, because who did Tommy think he was, calling Jisung his friend.

“Consider me warned,” Minho grinned teasingly, and Tommy’s fist clenched by his side.

Minho went back to staring at the wall, and Tommy left, though only to position himself on the dining room table, where he had a clear view of Minho on the couch but could be a little more subtle with his watching. Minho laughed to himself.

There was a crash, as the back door slammed, the loud whispering and drunken giggling. Minho’s heart climbed into his throat because he would recognise that laugh in his sleep.

Jisung.

Tommy’s head snapped up as well, following Jisung as he continued down the hall and into Minho’s view. Jisung didn’t even seem to notice Tommy there, even when he stood up, the chair scratching loudly on the wooden floor.

“Sweetheart!” Jisung exclaimed, grinning widely, leaning against the door frame, using it to keep himself upright.

Jisung was drunk, undoubtedly so. His pyjamas were gone and instead, he had on Hyunjin’s dress, the wig on his head was wonky had had sticks and leaves stuck in it. Jisung giggled and spun in a clumsy circle when he noticed Minho’s attention.

“Do I look pretty?” Jisung slurred, stumbling his way over to the couch.

“Very pretty,” Minho said, and Tommy glared daggers from the other room. It was worth it though, even just for the blush that broke out on Jisung’s already pink cheeks.

Tommy sat back down, angling his body so he wasn’t looking directly into the room, but so that he could easily tilt his head and watch them secretly.

Jisung clambered onto the couch. His shoes were muddy, and Minho cringed watching them stain the white fabric. Jisung’s body was warm and comfortable against his. The weight of Jisung’s head on his shoulder was relaxing, but it was also dangerous. Tommy tapped his fingernails on the dining table threaten and Minho gently pushed Jisung away.

“I shouldn’t sit with you,” Minho whispered, rising slowly from the couch, but Jisung drunkenly grabbed at him, pulling him down again.

“No,” Jisung whined, cuddling in closer, you’re not allowed to leave.”

So, Minho stayed, because every day it was harder to say no to Jisung. His hand slipped around Minho’s waist, under his jacket, and Minho let it stay there. Minho let his eyes flutter shut, listening to the sound of Jisung’s breathing beside him, and trying to ignore Tommy’s constant watch.

Jisung sniffed, and Minho opened his eyes. Silent tears streamed down Jisung’s hot cheeks, his eyes fixed blankly through the doorway, and onto Tommy. Maybe Minho was wrong, assuming that Jisung hadn’t noticed Tommy, maybe he had chosen to ignore him.

“Are you okay?” Minho asked softly and Jisung sniffed again.

“No.”

“Oh.”

_Me neither._

“I don’t want to be sad anymore,” Jisung whispered, “I want to be happy. I want him to think I’m happy.” He turned to Minho; his cheeks shone with the tears, “Make me look happy Hyung, kiss me, please.”

Minho froze. Jisung crawled onto his lap; the wig tumbled to the floor. Jisung’s hair shone like the night under the low lights.

“What the fuck Jisung, I’m not kissing you,” Minho whispered harshly. He tried to push Jisung off, but his grip on Minho’s shoulders was deadly tight.

“Please Hyung. Make me look happy.”

Minho didn’t know what to say.

Jisung looked over his shoulder to where Tommy was stealing cautious glances.

“I’m not kissing you. You’re drunk.” Minho tried prying Jisung’s hands off his shoulders.

“Make me forget him, please.” Jisung leaned even further forward until he was talking in Minho’s ear, their chests pressed together and Jisung’s chin resting on Minho’s shoulder.

_Oh._

_Make me forget him…_

_Jisung had never loved Deaun. It had always been Tommy._

The realisation felt like ice water in his veins. Everything made so much more sense, and it was so much worse. It made Tommy hating him so much worse.

Minho gave up trying to push Jisung away and instead wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him into a hug.

“Jisung I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you don’t want to kiss me,” Minho whispered; his hand ran up and down Jisung’s back.

“I want him to watch, I want him to be jealous,” Jisung choaked in Minho’s ear, “I want him to protect me again.”

Minho’s heart crumpled slightly. This wasn’t about Jisung wanting him, it was all about Tommy. Tears prickled behind Minho’s eyes.

Tommy picked up his bottle and drained half of it in one go. He was no longer trying to hide the fact he was watching and blatantly met Minho’s gaze. His eyes were dark and dangerous, angry and strong. Minho didn’t doubt that Tommy hated him, not for a second.

“If I did, he would kill me,” Minho whispered, breaking eye contact with Tommy.

“Tommy’s not like that,” Jisung murmured quietly, mouthing at the side of Minho’s neck. Minho squirmed under his lips. The skin they touched seemed to blossom and burn and it took all of Minho’s self-control to push Jisung away again.

“He’s exactly like that.”

Jisung seemed indifferent to Minho’s attempts to get him off, but his lips paused at Minho’s words and serious tone. His breath was warm and crawling on Minho’s skin.

“What are you talking about?” Jisung laughed nervously, a little breathless. Minho pushed harder on Jisung’s chest and Jisung finally lifted his head from Minho’s neck. Jisung’s face was red and flushed, and his eyes were dark with hunger and determination. Unwillingly, Minho wished that Jisung’s hunger was directed towards him.

“Jisung, you have to get off me,” Minho muttered, unable to meet Jisung’s eyes.

“No,” Jisung said firmly, wrapping his legs around Minho’s waist, pinning him down, “You’re not telling me something.”

Minho stiffened,

“It’s nothing.”

Jisung didn’t budge.

“Tell. Me.”

_Would you pick his side if you knew the truth?_

Minho sighed. Tommy was no longer sitting at the table.

“Fine.”

_But you have to promise not to hate me._

Jisung leant back in his lap.

“I lied,” Minho started, and the whole world seemed to fade into the background, “That day when I came to school all beaten up, and I said it was a customer, I lied.”

Jisung didn’t say anything, just stared down at Minho, his face unchanging.

“We were being followed by Chris that day, remember, Tommy’s friend. I told you it was a coincidence, but I lied about that too. He followed me to work and waited outside until I finished closing. We went down into the ally and fought.” Minho didn’t mention the knife, or the threat on his life, or the fact that loved Jisung.

Jisung’s eyes widened, and his hands relaxed on Minho’s shoulders.

Minho swallowed,

“Tommy asked him too. He wanted to keep me away from you and Deaun. He wanted to scare me away. He hates me.”

Jisung stared at him, completely frozen. Something inside him had shattered. He looked terrified.

“No, he didn’t. You’re lying!” Jisung clambered of Minho’s lap, retreating away, and suddenly Minho realised that he was who Jisung was scared of. “Tommy’s not like that, he wouldn’t.”

Minho stood up too,

“I promise I’m not lying,” he begged, reaching out to Jisung.

_Don’t pick him, please!_

Minho’s hand closed around Jisung’s wrist, but Jisung tore it out again. It felt like his heart had been ripped out alongside it.

“I don’t believe you.” Jisung stared down at Minho with ice in his eyes. Whatever doors had been open to him had closed. Jisung felt like a stranger wearing a lover’s face.

“W-what?” Minho stammered, “but I’m telling the truth! Jisung, you can’t believe him over me!”

_I love you! You can’t pick him!_

“I already have,” the words came out of Jisung’s mouth, but Minho couldn’t bring himself to believe it was Jisung who had spoken them, “I’ll always believe him over you.”

“No,” Minho whimpered, “You can’t…”

_You picked him._

Minho squeezed his eyes shut, because he couldn’t bear watching Jisung walk away. His knees gave way and he sunk to the floor. The carpet was soft and push against his forehead.

“You weren’t supposed to pick him,” Minho cried quietly, his voice immediately drowned out by the loud music and the hum of alcohol.

Minho wanted to go home, he wanted to run the streets, he wanted to bleed, but he didn’t want to leave Jisung with Tommy while he did so.

Jisung was already out of his reach. He had slipped through Minho’s fingers and had returned to Tommy’s side. Minho dug his fingers into the carpet.

Jisung stumbled thought the house, bumping into people, furniture, walls. Tears continued to fall, and he let them.

Tommy wouldn’t do that, right? Tommy was a nice person; he was a good person. It was Minho who was the one who got into fights, wasn’t it? Minho had to be lying, but why would Minho lie, and why did it hurt not to believe him.

“Jisung!” Felix called his name from the lounge in the front room, “Come play just dance- Oh shit! Are you okay?”

Jisung pushed passed him. He needed to find Tommy, he needed to know the truth.

The flashing lights and crowds of people made Lia’s house feel like a maze. Jisung staggered from room to room, ignoring the calling of his name, just searching, until he found him.

Tommy was sitting on the front porch, his back turned to the front door, surrounded by his burly friends and long hanging cigarette smoke. Jisung almost burst into tears at the sight of him.

“He was all over him, and he kept smiling at me, it was like he wanted to bother me,” Tommy complained angrily to the boy sitting opposite him. His voice was low, dark, and aggressive, and Jisung shivered.

“Tommy…” he tried to call out, but his voice came out weak and scratchy.

Tommy jumped out of his chair.

“Jisung! Fuck, are you okay?”

Tommy’s friends stared as Tommy leapt to Jisung’s side, holding his arm to keep him steadily.

“Sit down, you’re gonna fall over.” Tommy tried to lead Jisung to the chair he had just risen from, but Jisung didn’t move.

“Was he telling the truth?” Jisung whispered, holding onto Tommy’s wrist, “Do I trust him?”

Tommy stared at him,

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you ask Chris to follow us?” Jisung whimpered, almost afraid of the answer, “Did you ask Chris to keep Minho away from me?”

Tommy froze.

“Did you?” Jisung squeezed his wrist tighter.

“I thought it was for the best,” Tommy pulled him closer.

Jisung threw Tommy’s hand away,

“Minho was telling the truth.”

“I wanted to keep you safe, he’s dangerous!” Tommy begged.

“Minho’s not dangerous!” Jisung cried angrily.

“Haven’t you heard the stories?” Tommy yelled back just as loud, “He’s a monster!”

_He’s a monster?_

Jisung’s blood boiled red hot. Who did Tommy think he was talking about Minho that way? Fury rose through his body, taking over completely. Jisung ripped his arm out of Tommy’s grasp, just as his other hand collided with Tommy’s right cheekbone.

Jisung had punched him.

Tommy stumbled back in a mix of pain and shock. He tripped over the chair leg and fall to the ground. In a moment of victory, Jisung stood over him, as Tommy stared up, his hand against his cheek. Then Jisung ran, fleeing like he always would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn't too bad. I found it super difficult to write, because there were so many characters and so much happening.
> 
> I didn't want to be too over descriptive with the costumes so if you were interested I'll write who everybody was down here. Also, do people out of Australia know about the bananas in pyjamas. I know it was aired in America for a bit but I don't know how popular it was. For context, I was born in 03 and everybody my age watched them as a kid, but my younger sister doesn't really know them, so I don't know how many of you guys would.
> 
> I have to go back to school next Wednesday, it's a sad time :(
> 
> Why am I so nervous to post this chapter?
> 
> Okay, thanks for reading, I love you guys xxxxx
> 
> Costumes:  
> Minho - cat  
> Jisung - B2  
> Chan - Indiana Jones  
> Changbin - Penguin  
> Hyunjin - Alice, from Alice in wonderland (thank you wayv ten for giving me this idea)  
> Felix - Elsa  
> Seungmin - Prince Eric  
> Jeongin - Spiderman  
> Lia - B1  
> Deaun - Marilyn Monroe  
> Tommy - Superman (I don't think I mentioned anything about his costume at all)  
> Bambam - A pirate


	41. Chapter 41 (Love comes easy when you’re desperate)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late and I'm tired. I wanted to upload this earlier today but I got about half-way through formating and then Mum asked me to make a dessert in the like half an hour I had before we had to go out. Sorry about the long wait. I'd forgotten how much time school took up.

When Minho was eight his father kissed his forehead and walked out the front door.

Minho didn’t remember a lot of being eight, but it felt like he could remember that day clearly. He was wearing his blue sweater, the one his nan had sent him for Christmas, and his dad was wearing his brown leather work shoes. The carpet had just been cleaned and Minho could almost feel how soft it was under his knees.

Minho was too young to understand that it had been his father’s final goodbye. He kept playing with his blocks until night fell when he remembered asking his teary-eyed mum, “When’s dad coming home?” and not quite understanding the response, “Not for a long time, Minho”.

Maybe he had been too young to understand at the time, but his departure didn’t leave Minho unscarred. Minho was always told that he was a clingy child, but after his dad left, he gripped to his mother like she too could vanish from his life without a moment notice,

And then five years later, she did.

When Minho was thirteen, his mum was torn from his world.

Maybe his grip on her hadn’t been tight enough because no matter how tight he held her, the blood kept flowing, and her life kept slipping between his fingers. Minho couldn’t remember what she had worn, but the picture of her clothes and his hands, stained red, remained vivid in his mind none the less. She died on the pavement, and this time Minho was old enough to understand that her goodbye was forever.

Suddenly, Minho didn’t have anything to grip onto. He wandered aimlessly and hopelessly. He was angry and he was scared. He was hurt. He told himself to never love again because it only hurt when they disappeared, but love comes easy when you’re desperate.

Kiwoo had been so bright, that Minho forgot his promise to himself. Loving Kiwoo came so naturally. Kiwoo didn’t tell him that the world was beautiful, but in the darkness, sometimes he made Minho think it could be. Minho hadn’t been scared that Kiwoo would vanish, but because the world is cruel and ironic, he did.

Minho had moved to the city, alone and hurt again. He remade his promise, but of course, it never lasted, because, despite his hurt, loving came easy to Minho.

He loved Chan. He loved Changbin. He loved the members in his dance team,

And he loved Jisung.

To Minho, curled up on Lia’s living room floor, the party continuing around him, Jisung choosing Tommy felt a little bit like him disappearing from his life.

Minho heart crawled up into his mouth and spewed out onto the floor with his choaked sobs. His hands clenched in the carpet, wishing desperately that he could just pull Jisung back to him and hold him close. The leather of his jacket suddenly felt constricting and suffocating. Minho’s ribs felt too small to breathe.

The door slammed open. Minho didn’t move from the floor; he didn’t even attempt to look up.

“Minho.” Chan’s voice was serious and commanding, Minho curled into himself further.

“Minho get up. Now.”

Chan yanked Minho to his feet pulling him up off the carpet by the collar of his jacket. Minho felt like a rag doll in his hands.

“What the fuck is going on,” Chan growled in Minho’s ear, holding Minho close to his side, hand gripping tightly on Minho’s forearm.

Minho couldn’t answer. Tears continued to fall down his face, silent and obvious. Chan’s other hand slipped around his back comfortingly. Even when Chan was angry, he was caring.

Lia flew into the room and Chan’s head snapped up expectantly. Minho had thought she had looked panicked before, now looked downright terrified. Her dark blue hair framed a pale, wide-eyed face. Her hands danced on the doorframe, the quick taps in time with her shallow breathing.

She swallowed nervously,

“I can’t find him. He’s gone.”

Minho’s head swam.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Chan swore under his breath, “We have to fucking find him. He can’t be gone!”

Minho’s fingers closed over the cuff of his jacket.

“What happened?” His voice was horse and weak, even Minho himself could hear how pitiful he sounded.

Lia swallowed again, and Chan’s arm stiffened around Minho’s waist.

“He punched him…” Lia whispered after a moment of tense quiet. Minho met her eyes and her hand stilled on the door frame, “He punched Tommy.”

Minho’s heart stopped.

“He punched him,” Minho repeated, hands shaking. He whispered it so quietly he wasn’t sure if had spoken out loud. Something crawled in his chest, an emotion Minho didn’t quite know what to label, an emotion that felt a little like selfish hope.

Chan clenched his jaw. The muscles in his neck popped and Minho realised how scary his friend could look when he was worried. Minho suddenly realised that Chan had no clue who Tommy was. To him, Tommy was just a name, the name of a boy who had hurt Jisung to the point of violence.

“We have to find him before he does anything else reckless.” Chan turned to Minho, his eyes were hard with a slight accusation and Minho couldn’t blame him for it. “You were with Jisung before. Did you say anything?”

Minho knew that meant ‘is this your fault?’ but was grateful that Chan didn’t outright say it.

Minho swallowed. It was his fault. At least it felt that way. If he hadn’t told Jisung the truth, if he had lied like he always did, maybe he could have continued to hold Jisung selfishly by his side. Maybe if he had lied, he could continue to pretend that Jisung’s friendship meant more.

“I think it’s my fault.” Dread flooded through Minho’s body. His knees shook and Chan’s hold around his waist tightened to stop him from collapsing to the floor.

“It’s not.”

Deaun stood in the doorway, a bag of frozen peas held delicately in one hand. Her beautiful features were tainted by poisoned drops of worry. Fear shot through Minho’s heart at the sight of her. He didn’t know Deaun’s intentions anymore. She had grown up too much. She didn’t look like she had when they danced together. Maybe she had changed just as much as he had. Maybe he couldn’t trust her like he thought he could.

Deaun sighed and dropped the peas to the ground. The clip holding the bag shut was knocked off and little green peas rolled fell out into the carpet. Deaun’s hands had blood on them, she wiped it off onto her dress, streaking scarlet over the snow-white fabric. Her lipstick stood out against her pale skin in the exact same shade, almost like the blood had been part of the outfit all along.

Deaun held out her bloodied hand, and it felt like an offering. Minho’s excepted it, slipping his own into hers. Tommy’s blood was sticky, but her hold was comforting. Maybe Minho shouldn’t, maybe he trusted too easily, but his hand was warm in hers, and he knew that he couldn’t hate her.

“It’s not your fault that Tommy acted like a dick. It’s not your fault that I tried to mess with Jisung’s life and bring him back into mine. It’s not your fault that Jisung’s scared,” Deaun rubbed he back of his hand and Minho felt like crying, “You have to stop blaming yourself Minho. None of this has ever been your fault.”

Tears fell down Minho’s cheeks again. His tongue felt too large in his throat and all he could do was nod silently.

“Do you know where he might be?” Chan asked, looking up at Deaun hopefully. Chan didn’t know Deaun either. Maybe he could tell, just by looking at her, that maybe she knew Jisung better than either of them ever would. She knew all of Jisung’s past, the past he never talked about.

Deaun shook her head.

“Jisung was never predictable where he went when he ran. He runs away from things, not towards them.”

Chan set his jaw and stood up straight. With a simple change in stance, he transformed from a boy full of worry and anger, into a determined leader. Even his arm around Minho’s body suddenly felt more stable.

“We have to find him before he gets too far. Changbin can get the others home, us three,” he gestured to himself, Lia and Minho, “We’re gonna find him.”

The streets were quiet and unsettling. Heat hung in the air leaving Minho feeling sticky and hot in his jacket. The night was dark. Thick cloud had settled over the sky, blocking out any light provide by the sliver of moon. Minho’s phone torch seemed to only light a tiny portion of the road in front of him, the rest of the world remained dark and unknown. It felt unlikely that he would find Jisung in the tiny lit patch.

Minho shivered despite the heat. Strange noises in the bushes caused his skin to crawl. He regretted suggesting to Chan that they spilt up. Hadn’t he seen enough horror movies to know that was a bad idea?

“Jisung,” Minho called quietly. It was late in the night, and Minho was sure that the suburban families wouldn’t take kindly to Minho screaming out Jisung’s name, especially when there was a high chance, he wasn’t there at all.

Some part inside him hoped that Jisung wasn’t there, that Minho wouldn’t find him, because no matter how badly Minho craved Jisung’s body up against his, he was terrified of what Jisung would say when they came face to face. Jisung hadn’t chosen Tommy in the end, but it didn’t mean he would choose Minho instead. Maybe he would just keep running.

A notification lit up Minho’s phone screen.

_12.45: Has he answered any of your calls?_

Jisung hadn’t.

Minho tapped on Lia’s message to reply, but Chan got there before him.

_12.45: Nope. It’s stopped ringing anymore. Either it’s gone flat, or he’s turned it off._

Minho bit his lip. It wasn’t a good sign.

He clicked on Jisung’s contact anyway. For a moment Minho felt guilty for keeping his name saved as ‘ _Han Jisung_ ’, it felt too cold, but when had Minho been anything other than cold. His heart clenched with a little bit of truth. He hadn’t been cold towards Jisung in a long time.

Chan wasn’t wrong, the call went straight to message. Jisung’s pre-recorded voice chimed joyfully out the phone.

“Hi! It’s Jisung! Don’t bother leaving a message, I never check them! Send a text if you want. I’ll ring back as soon as I can!”

Jisung’s giggle filled the dark, surrounding Minho with a tiny moment of warmth before the phone beeped, cutting off Jisung’s laugh, and began recording the message. Minho was plunged into loneliness again.

“Where are you, Baby?” Minho whispered, before forcing himself to hang up.

He felt just a little bit more alone.

An old lady, taking the trash out in her dressing gown and slippers, stopped to stare as Minho stumbled passed. His face heated with the reminder that he was still wearing the cat ears, yet the embarrassment wasn’t enough to stop him from calling out to her.

“Did you by any chance see a boy with dark blue hair come passed?” Minho paused, “He’s wearing a dress.”

The lady stared and Minho’s blush darkened. He knew he looked crazy, but he was desperate.

“No,” the lady wrinkled her nose a little, her eyes flicking up and down, taking in his heavy eye makeup and tight ripped jeans, “We don’t get your type around here.”

Her tiny high voice was filled with so much hate and disgust. Anger boiled up inside Minho’s veins. The aggressive part of him, the part that had been slumbering, the part of him who thought that maybe drop-kicking an old lady was okay, stirred in its sleep.

Minho breathed deeply, settling it back down. He needed to find Jisung. That’s what was important.

“Oh, sorry for bothering you.”

Minho knew he sounded bitter, but he had kept his tongue in check and that was good enough. Bitterness was the least she deserved. The lady dropped her trash into the bin, and shuffled her way back into the house, though Minho saw her peeking at him through the curtains, making sure he didn’t loiter. Part of Minho wished he had said something. Something witty. Something to put a horrid old woman in her place. Something dirty. Something Chan probably wouldn’t approve of.

Minho hadn’t said anything though. She had walked back into the comfort of her house to suffocate in her own hatred.

“I hope she’s unhappy,” Minho whispered to himself, barely controlling himself from kicking over her bins on his way past. Her rubbish smelt rotten and spoilt.

The smell seemed to linger with him as he walked down the road, or maybe it was just the echoes of her words.

 _Your type_.

He spat on the road. Drop kicking the lady seemed like a good idea in hindsight.

Minho’s phone rung.

He fumbled getting it out of his pocket. His heart raced. Was it Chan? Had something happened? Had he found Jisung?

Minho’s heart stopped because the name that shone brightly on the screen wasn’t Chan’s.

It was Jisung’s.

Minho answered with hurried, shaky hands and held the phone tentatively against his ear.

“Hello?” Minho whispered, “Jisung?”

Jisung sniffed on the other end of the line.

“Sorry I missed your call.”

_Sorry I missed your call? Was that all? What about ‘I’m sorry for hurting you’, ‘I’m sorry for running?’, ‘I’m sorry for choosing him over you?’._

“It’s okay.”

Jisung sniffed again.

“Are you alright?” Minho asked after a moment of silence.

“Not really,” Jisung replied weakly after just as long.

“Oh.” I was all Minho could manage, but there was so much more he wanted to say. He wanted Jisung to know how broken he had been without him. He wanted Jisung to apologise. He wanted Jisung by his side. He wanted Jisung to love him.

“Can you come get me?” Jisung whimpered and everything Minho wanted to say went out the window.

“Of course,” because Minho would always put Jisung over himself.

Jisung was still at the skatepark when Minho arrived. He sat cross-legged in front of his own painting staring up at it with tear-stained eyes.

“Hi,” Jisung whispered when Minho wordlessly lowered himself to sit beside him. Their arms brushed and the contact felt reassuring.

“Hi.”

Someone had scribbled a tag across the eagle’s wing, completely ruining the flow of the piece, but Minho supposed that was just the nature of street art. He didn’t say anything about it to Jisung.

“I hope the words I wrote no longer hold their weight.” Jisung read the purple words underneath the painting out loud, his voice was weak and scratchy. A single tear rolled down his cheek. Minho’s hand twitched on the pavement beside him, wanting so badly to wipe it away and cradle Jisung’s face in his hands. He wanted to hold Jisung so close he could never leave again because even though he was hurting, losing Jisung would hurt more.

Jisung intertwined their fingers. Minho held his hand tightly, watching silently as Jisung cried.

“You were in love with him, weren’t you?” Minho asked softly, rubbing the back of Jisung’s hand with his thumb.

Jisung didn’t seem able to speak. His mouth twitched like it was ready to scream, or cry, or wail, but no sound came out. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Minho held his hand tighter.

Jisung nodded, and it seemed to be the final straw. He fell sideways into Minho’s body, burying his face in Minho’s chest, and clinging to his shirt with tiny, clenched fists. Minho’s hands automatically came up to hold him, pulling him in closer and rubbing soothing circles into the warm skin of his back.

Maybe he was selfish for taking advantage of Jisung’s vulnerability like this. Jisung was seeking comfort and Minho was using it as an opportunity to hold him close again.

But then again, maybe Jisung was the selfish one.

Only an hour ago Jisung had ripped Minho’s heart out, and now he was here, crying into Minho’s arms. Would Jisung be there for Minho like this? If it was Minho who had come to Jisung in tears, would Jisung hold Minho like this? Minho doubted it. No one had ever been there for Minho like this.

_I’ll always pick him over you._

Bitterness seeped into his heart again. For a moment he wanted to throw Jisung off him, he wanted to scream until Jisung understood how broken he was, but if Jisung knew, would he still cling to Minho like this.

Maybe Jisung wouldn’t be there for Minho like this, but he had turned to Minho when he needed comfort, and maybe that was enough.

Minho swallowed down the sour taste until all that replaced it was the sweetness of Jisung’s skin against his own.

Because Minho was selfish, and Minho was broken.

He would let pain ferment inside him, he would let it rot him from the inside out. He would hurt endlessly if it meant the people around him kept close.

“I loved him so much,” Jisung whimpered into the soft fabric of Minho’s shirt. He sounded so tiny and vulnerable.

“It’s okay,” Minho promised gently, running his fingers through Jisung’s hair. His roots had started to come through, though the black was hardly noticeable in the similarly dark blue.

“Why can’t I forget him?”

Minho didn’t know how to respond. One of his hands wandered to the side of Jisung’s face and traced the shell of his ear.

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t want to hurt this much anymore.”

_Neither do I,_

But Minho would hurt if it meant that Jisung would stay by his side.

“Come on,” Minho gathered Jisung up in his arms, lifting him to his feet. Jisung leaned on him, completely relying on Minho to hold up his weight. The reliance felt comforting. “My place isn’t far.”

Minho’s apartment still smelt musty; the rotting floorboards still not fixed. Windows were small and numbered, providing limited relief. The whole place felt tiny and dirty.

“Sorry,” Minho apologised, though Jisung hadn’t lifted his head out of Minho’s shirt to see what he was apologising for, “My place isn’t the nicest.”

“It’s fine.”

Minho placed Jisung down on the couch. It was second hand, and Minho felt like he was only now just noticing now tatty it looked.

Jisung held his knees up to his chest and Hyunjin’s dress gathered around his waist. Jisung was only wearing his boxers underneath and Minho flushed, looking away sharply.

Jisung didn’t react.

“I’ll get you some clothes to change into,” Minho muttered, the blush hot and humiliating.

“Okay.”

Jisung didn’t say thank you.

Minho breathed a shaky sigh of relief when he shut his bedroom door. He shook his head, trying not to think about how smooth the bare skin of Jisung’s thighs had looked.

Minho rummaged in his wardrobe.

He pulled out a new t-shirt, one he had only worn a couple of times, and a pair of sweatpants. It was too hot for them, but Minho didn’t want to risk seeing that much of Jisung’s legs again.

Jisung hadn’t moved from the couch. Minho placed the clothes down beside him.

“You can change in the bathroom if you want,” Minho said awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but Jisung. The dress was still around his waist. Jisung didn’t look like he had noticed.

“Okay.”

Jisung rose from the couch, the dress falling back into place. Minho turned away as he entered the bathroom. Minho didn’t want to think of Jisung undressed.

Minho’s clothes were a little too big around Jisung’s shoulders and waist, but not enough to completely drown him. Minho was secretly a little disappointed, he wanted to see Jisung looking devastatingly tiny in his clothes.

Instead, Jisung just looked tired.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Minho offered, more to fill the silence than anything else.

Jisung shook his head,

“No, I just want to sleep.”

Minho brought Jisung into his bedroom, thanking the gods that he had changed his sheets the day before. Jisung crawled into the blankets without a second’s hesitation, curling up in on himself and pulling the covers up against his chest.

Minho swallowed. Jisung looked so right, here in his clothes, in his bed.

Minho turned away, shaking his head. He wasn’t allowed to think that.

“Where are you going?” Jisung lifted his head from the pillow to stare up at Minho with those dark, round eyes.

Minho swallowed again.

“Just to wash off my makeup. I’m not leaving you.”

The water was cool and refreshing on Minho’s face. He let it drip from his nose, chin, eyelashes.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

_2.17: Did you take him home?_

_2.18: Yes_

Minho was sure that Chan meant Jisung’s own home. Chan didn’t need to know the truth.

The lights were off when Minho opened his bedroom door again.

“What are you doing?” Jisung’s tired voice carried from somewhere in the darkness. Minho squinted to try and make out his form.

“Don’t worry, I’m only grabbing some clothes. Go back to sleep.”

Minho felt his way over to the wardrobe. He blindly pulled a soft shirt out, not wanting to wake Jisung anymore by turning the lights on. There were no blankets on the couch, but Minho didn’t have any spares and Jisung was far too bundled up in the ones on his bed for Minho to even consider taking one.

His jacket would be fine.

“Don’t go,” Jisung whispered and Minho paused at the door, “Stay with me.”

“Okay,” because Minho would do anything that Jisung asked.

Minho felt Jisung’s eyes on him as he turned his back and changed into the shirt he had pulled from the wardrobe. The fabric hung loose and soft on his skin. Jisung giggled as Minho stumbled, attempting to peel his tight jeans off. Minho laughed too, but he knew he sounded nervous.

Jisung shuffled over and Minho crawled tentatively in beside him. The sheets were cool and welcoming, as was the way his body fit in easily beside Jisung’s.

“Thank you for looking after me today,” Jisung whispered shuffling in closer to Minho until his back was pressed up against Minho’s chest.

“It’s okay,” Minho whispered back, even though it wasn’t.

“I ruined Lia’s party, didn’t I?”

“She’s not angry at you.”

Jisung pulled the blankets up against his chest and bundling it in his fists.

“I don’t deserve you Minho.”

Minho shuffled closer to him. Close enough that the ends of his hair tickled Minho’s nose, and the heat of his skin warmed Minho’s chest.

“What could I ever do to make it up to you,” Jisung mumbled sleepily. Minho barely heard him.

“Just sit next to me on the bus next week,” Minho sighed, running his hand through Jisung’s hair, but he was lying. When Minho closed his eyes, all he could see was Jisung’s eyes, staring at him, believing he was a liar, and all Minho could feel was the bitter aftertaste of something that tasted a little like a betrayal.

Jisung didn’t apologise for his words, and for once Minho was left waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of people in the comment of the last chapter said that if they were Minho they wouldn't forgive Jisung easily, and for a while, I was worried about his reaction in the chapter. I hope that it still feels like a genuine and realistic mind state for him to have. I know it's not the healthiest way for him to think about it, but it felt in character. 
> 
> I hope everyone has a great valentines day tomorrow, enjoy your date with Chan haha. 
> 
> Thanks for reading as always. I have to go do homework now, even though it's just hit 11 pm. I need to clean the cars tomorrow morning and I have so much schoolwork I need to get done before Monday.


	42. Chapter 42 (I’m worried about you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't expecting to post this today, but I had a productive day at school, and I want to procrastinate doing any homework, and for once I kinda have the time too. 
> 
> Just for the future, my aim is to sort of post every second weekend from now on. That's not a promise, but what I'm kinda going to aim towards. It will honestly depend on how much time I have, and whether or not the chapters long or not. Like, this one was heaps shorter than some of the more recent ones, so it didn't take as long to write. It also kinda depends on how much I feel like writing as well haha. Sometimes I'm just not feeling the chapter and I just put off writing it.

Minho woke up before Jisung.

They had moved in the night, so now Jisung’s head was resting on top of Minho’s chest, an arm snaking around his waist. Sunlight streamed through the open gap in the curtains, lighting a strip that ran across the room and over Jisung’s face.

Minho smiled fondly down at him. Jisung looked peaceful as he slept. His soft cheeks were smooth and relaxed, slightly puffier than they were when he was awake. His dark eyelashes fluttered with slight restlessness and his arm tightened around Minho’s waist and formed a fist in his shirt.

It felt nice, having Jisung cling to him.

Jisung looked a little like Minho’s boyfriend.

Minho lightly traced a line from the middle of Jisung’s hairline, down his nose and across his lips, being careful to keep his touch gentle enough not to wake him.

Jisung’s breathing was calm and rhythmic on the tips of Minho’s fingers.

Minho let his eyes flutter shut. It was so easy to pretend that the rest of the world didn’t exist, and it as just the two of them here. It was easy to pretend that last night hadn’t happened.

Maybe that was selfish of him too, using Jisung’s unconscious form to fuel his fantasy.

Jisung’s hand on his side lowered slightly, so his fingers brushed bare skin rather than the fabric of Minho’s shirt, and Minho put his uneasy thoughts to rest.

He would just pretend, just for a little longer.

Jisung woke with a jolt and tiny rapid breaths. Minho kept his eyes shut, body loose and pliant on the bed. He didn’t know why, but it was easier to pretend that Jisung had woken first. Jisung sat up sighed into his palms. Minho immediately missed the weight of his head on Minho’s chest.

“Minho?” Jisung twisted around and shook Minho’s shoulder gently. Minho rolled over and groan into his pillow, making and act of waking. Jisung giggled, and Minho couldn’t control a smile, which he hid against the pillowcase.

“You’re still here,” Minho sat up and stretched his arms up.

“Yeah,” Jisung crossed his legs, his knee touching Minho’s bare thigh, “I am. Do you not want me to be?”

Minho shook his head quickly,

“No, don’t leave,” he gently ran his hand over Jisung’s shin, “I like having you here. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Oh.” Jisung’s eyes dropped from his face to Minho’s hand. He took it off his leg and started gently playing with Minho’s fingers.

It felt nice.

“You can’t blame me. Last time I woke up and you had disappeared.” Minho smiled, squeezing the tips of Jisung’s fingers teasingly.

Jisung squeezed them back,

“I’m sorry.”

_You have a lot to be sorry for. Which thing are you apologising for?_

“Don’t be.”

Deaun rang Minho that afternoon.

Jisung had gone home wearing Minho’s new shirt and leaving him alone in his apartment.

Jisung still didn’t apologise and every moment Minho waited for one, he longed for it less. His mind was already tricking itself into not caring, telling himself that he was overthinking Jisung’s words and that they weren’t as bad as he had thought.

“I heard you found him.” Deaun sounded tired on the other end of the phone.

Minho sighed. He probably sounded tired too.

“Yeah, he asked me to come and get him.”

“That’s good. You mean a lot to him, Minho.” Deaun commented. Something in her voice felt a little bit distant. Guilty maybe.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come and help look.” Deaun apologised and Minho brushed her off.

“It’s okay, you were busy with Tommy.”

“Does he hate me for it?”

“Who? Jisung?” Minho asked, almost surprised, “I don’t think he even realised that we were searching.”

Deaun giggled lifelessly again,

“Okay, do you hate me for it?”

“No,” Minho replied almost too quickly, “like I said, you were busy caring for Tommy. He needed you more than we did. How is he by the way?”

Deaun sighed,

“We went to the hospital this morning, Jisung broke his nose, and he has a huge black eye, but nothing he won’t recover from.”

“Oh,” Minho struggled to reply, “That’s good I guess.”

“You’re allowed to hate him, you know, that right?”

“I know.”

“And what about me?” Deaun asked, and suddenly she sounded incredibly vulnerable, “You’re allowed to hate me too.”

“Why would I do that?” Minho spoke quietly and slowly, a little bit afraid of Deaun’s response.

Deaun didn’t respond for a moment, and Minho was left listening to the white noise created by the phone.

“Because I’m selfish,” Deaun finally said, “Because I thought I could return things to the way they were. Because I thought I could repair Tommy’s and Jisung’s relationship. I thought I could play with Jisung’s life, and it ended up hurting everybody.”

_I’m selfish too._

“It’s not your fault-”

“It is,” Deaun stopped him, “and you're allowed to hate me for it.”

“I don’t.”

“Thank you.”

One of Minho’s cats wandered through the door and flopped down to the floor, stretching out in the afternoon sunlight. Minho reached out with his foot, rubbing her belly with his toes.

“I know he means a lot to you Minho,” Deaun finally said, “and I’m worried that he’s gonna hurt you.”

_He already has, but I love him, so it’s okay._

“No offence,” Deaun continued, “but you’re someone’s who’s been hurt a lot, more than I think any of us know, and Jisung’s good at hurting people… He’s scared, and when he’s scared, he only thinks of himself. He runs without warning, Minho, and it fucking hurts when he does.”

Minho felt a sudden rush of understanding and empathy towards Deaun and Tommy for that matter. They had loved Jisung, not in the way Minho did, but in a way that mattered just as much, and he had disappeared out their lives. He had disappeared the same way his dad, his mum, and Kiwoo had. Minho knew just how much it hurt. He didn’t blame them for being desperate to have Jisung back in their lives. Minho would be too.

“I’ll be okay,” Minho tried to make himself sound sure.

“I hope so.” Deaun didn’t sound like she believed him.

“Something’s off between you and Jisung…” Chan hummed and stirred this juice with the paper straw the café had provided.

“How can you tell?” Minho laughed sarcastically, snapping the biscuit Chan had ordered him in half.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Chan sighed, “I’m trying to help you here.”

“I don’t need your help. We’re fine.” Minho dunked on half of the biscuit in his coffee, a little more aggressive than he meant to.

“You’re so full of bullshit, Minho,” Chan sighed again, “you know you’re not fine.”

“Stop getting involved in my life,” Minho muttered under his breath and Chan slapped his hand down on the table.

“Don’t act like this isn’t my business too!”

“It’s not,” Minho interrupted, grumbling quietly.

“Of course it’s not!” Chan cried out sarcastically, causing the waitress to look up sharply from behind the till, “It’s not like two of my best friends aren’t,” Chan waved his hand around, not entirely sure what to call Minho and Jisung’s weird ‘fighting’, “whatever you guys have going on. It’s not like I care about you or anything!”

“We’re not fighting,” Minho mumbled quietly, not prepared to argue with Chan on this.

Chan sighed softly,

“I know you’re not, but you’re not fine either, are you?”

“I’ll be alright.”

“Alright is not enough, Minho.”

“It will have to do.”

“How long’s it been now?” Chan asked, leaning back in his chair, “The party was Saturday, and today’s Wednesday, so what four days, have you talked to Jisung at all since?”

“Yeah,” Minho answered without hesitation.

Chan looked up, eyebrows slightly raised,

“Really! Have you seen him?”

Minho nodded, face warming slightly,

“Twice.”

“Jesus Christ, Minho,” Chan buried his face in his hands, “And has he apologised?

“He has nothing to apologise for.”

“That’s bullshit Minho, and we both know it. He’s done something that hurt you, and you’re too afraid to tell him what it was, aren’t you?”

Minho didn’t like being read so easily. A window that Minho had left open, closed inside his mind. A shadow flickered across Chan’s face. He knew he had pushed it too far; he knew that Minho was closing himself off again.

“I’m sorry,” Chan’s head dropped. Minho didn’t respond.

“I’m worried about you Minho.”

Everybody seemed worried about him.

Minho flicked a crumb of biscuit across the table. Part of him wanted to breakdown, cry out his feelings to Chan. To have Chan hold him close in comfort and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but the walls were up inside his mind, and it would be too exhausting to build them again once they had been broken.

Instead, he just stood up, his coffee still half full.

“I’ll see you Friday, Chan.”

Felix and Jisung lay on Felix’s bed, legs tangled together and Jisung’s head resting on Felix's shoulder. One of Felix’s hands lazily played with Jisung’s hair, while the other hung limply of the side of the bed. They both stared at a tiny beetle walking across the ceiling.

“Chan mentioned that you were making another song for Minho.” Felix kept watching the bug, but his hand stilled in Jisung’s hair. He was trying to seem casual, but his actions betrayed his interest in Jisung’s answer.

“Yeah, he asked me to make his one for his solo when school goes back,” Jisung muttered quietly. He nervously fiddles with the corner of the sheet, not entirely sure what he was scared of.

Felix hummed thoughtfully.

“I’m glad, _I see_ was so perfect for him. You guys work well together.”

Jisung didn’t so Felix continued talking, now he was speaking without thinking.

“It’s good that you guys are friends now. Hyunjin said you stayed at his place after the party.”

Jisung froze, he was comfortable enough now to admit to himself that he had stayed the night at Minho’s, but hearing it from another mouth, made it all the more real.

Felix continued without pausing, not noticing Jisung’s state.

“I can’t believe he let you come over. He’s never invited me there, or Hyunjin. I don’t think that Chan or Changbin ever go there either.”

Jisung couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in his body was tensed as if he was ready to fight. Or run. Guilt and anxiety bubbled together inside his blood. The words he had spat out at Minho tasted bitter in between his teeth, and the sweetness or Minho’s arms had done nothing but temporarily dull it.

The lies he told himself slipped through his fingers like water, running down his arms and dripping from his elbows. He had cried out lies in Minho’s face, screaming things that were comfortable to believe, but were no longer true. He had told Minho that he would never choose him and then had run back into his arms like they were home. And Minho held him.

Minho was hurting. It was obvious. Jisung had hurt him. Yet he still cradled Jisung in his arms, sacrificing his happiness for Jisung’s comfort, and Jisung had greedily let him.

Minho had been waiting for an apology, clinging to the lifeless hope with a crumbling grip. Jisung’s humanity begged him to give in, but his selfishness knew that an apology would taste like acid, burning away at his tongue and lips, until his teeth fell lose in a hollow mouth. So, any apology lay unspoken, dormant in his lungs.

He hadn’t realised he was crying until Felix wiped his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Are you okay?” Felix asked softly, “Did Minho do something?”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” Jisung couldn’t even say his name.

Felix grabbed his wrist and held it tightly.

“Jisung if he’s done something you have to tell me. I know I’m friends with him too, but you come first. If he lays a hand on you...”

Felix trailed of and Jisung managed to smile. He didn’t fancy Minho’s chances against Felix.

“He didn’t do anything, I, I just don’t want to think about him now.” He forced out a laugh, it sounded bitter and weak. Guilt prickled under his skin, burrowing its way down into his heart, where it lay.

Felix frowned. He rested his hand on Jisung’s cheek and gently turned his head until their eyes met. Felix gazed at him with such care, and the guilt inside Jisung’s heart purred.

“Something’s hurting you Jisung, I want to help.”

_I’m the one who’s hurting me. I clawed apart my world in an attempt to feel comfort, and in the end, I still hurt the same._

Jisung turned away, unable to witness Felix’s kindness anymore. The beetle had disappeared from the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have to let the angst brew... It's like cooking! Just joking, I have no clue what I'm doing, don't take my advice, I don't like cooking.
> 
> About the last chapter... So many of you relate to Minho, me included, it's kinda worrying! I'm not really one to talk, but burying your emotions to please others is not healthy!!!! Let people know how you feel!!!! How about we make a deal, we'll all try to get a bit better at confrontation, me included?  
> If you can't relate to Minho on this one, good for you! I wish I was more like that. 
> 
> I've had the scene with Felix and Jisung written for agesssssss, about the same time I wrote the first-ever scene in the dance studio with I see, the first draft of the Chris Minho fight, and Deauns party scene. I think those were the first four scenes I wrote that are actually gonna be used. There were a couple of other ones I wrote at the same time that no longer fit and they were kinda bad, so I'm gonna pretend that they didn't exist. It's been ages (I wrote it in December 2019) it's nice to have it published. Originally the scene was written for when Minho and Jisung still hated each other. It never fit in, but it was too sweet for me to give up on it. I had to rewrite a ton of it to make it fit, and it ended up being a lot angstier, and less concentrated on Felix and Jisung's friendship, but oh well.
> 
> Also, I'm bored, and making a Hating You (Loving You) playlist. So if there's any songs that vaugly remind you of this story, let me know and I'll probably add it in. It's very small at the moment, but I want it to grow :))))


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